


Stained and Unashamed

by FythyrWisp



Series: Dirt Road Rejects [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, F/F, F/M, Family, M/M, Mechanic Claire, Mechanic Dean, Other, Principal Castiel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2018-12-24 01:54:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 73
Words: 333,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12002484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FythyrWisp/pseuds/FythyrWisp
Summary: Seven years ago, a family formed, taking shape and bonding through everyday life's battles. Now, strong as ever, their lives continue to change.(Sequel to Two-bit Losers, Part 3 of Dirt Road Rejects)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (A/N: Finally found my title!!! YES!
> 
> STOP!!! --- This is Part 3. Go read Dirt Road Rejects [Unfortunately the series title as well, not well thought-out, sorry] and Two-bit Losers first!
> 
> In case you decide to ignore that, well, I pretty much write anything, so it gets gory and graphic. I'll try to warn you. Like with this chapter,-
> 
> WARNING! - Depiction of labor and childbirth. Which is messy. Also a little violent, because somebody is a puncher... If you watch the show, you're probably fine.
> 
> This is 7 years after DRR, 5 after TBL. This is gonna span a long time, with big time gaps. I also have a feeling this is going to make for many a deleted scene fic in the future, but this is my main effort for now.
> 
> Thank you all for sharing this amazingly long-ass story with me, it's been so much fun, and I really think when I'm done with this one, I'll be ready to attempt an actual novel. Quite a ride. Love you all! THANKS FOR READING!   
>  FythyrWisp [also my handle on Tumblr and Twitter!])

* * *

** **

** One Year Ago **

** **

* * *

Alfie followed her frantic rambling as best he could, trying to stroke her face, even as she moved hectically through the room, "Claire..."

"I can't. I can't do this right now, it's just, this is too much." 

"I need you to calm down." 

"I can't! Okay? There's two lines. That's not supposed to happen. I wanted one line, not two lines." 

"Claire, I love you." 

"Don't change the goddamn subject!" Claire snapped. 

"I'm sorry you're having a rough time with this, but-" 

"Fucking crisis, you mean?" 

In spite of himself, Alfie laughed, "Sorry... um... it's not a crisis pregnancy, though. You graduated, we're married, we've got a stable home, we don't need anything we can't just go out and get, and... Maybe the universe just decided it was time... I mean, I know we said we'd talk about it, think about it, but..." 

"You can't be serious." 

"What's missing?" Alfie asked, trying to pull her close only to have her shove away again, "What's so bad about now?" 

"I'm not ready." 

"What would help you feel ready?" 

The dam burst as Claire's voice cracked, "I don't know!" 

"Okay." Alfie replied quickly, attempting to soothe her, "Look, I get it, this is scary, and if you're not ready, we're not ready. But I know you've been thinking about it for a few years. Now, we're going to do whatever you need, but... Some stuff can make it harder to have kids in the future, and I'd hate for us to be trying later and not be able to. That's all... So, what do you need just for right now, so you can calm down enough to think?" 

Claire's lip trembled, "Hold me." 

* * *

** **

** Three Months Ago **

** **

* * *

Dean stood in the kitchen pouring a glass of red wine as his phone started to ring. He answered it as he carried the glass back into the living room and passed it to Cas, who made a face, but accepted it just the same.

"Hey, Claire. What's up? You need something?" Dean asked. 

Through huffing breaths, Claire hissed on the other end of the line, "Get your ass over here and get this thing out of me." 

"Oh, honey, no." Dean replied with a chuckle, "You're scary enough when you're not in labor, I don't think I want to see this." 

"She's in labor?" Cas asked from his spot on the couch. 

Dean nodded quickly, assuring him it was true. 

"The midwife is three hours away, Dean. Alfie's not here yet, either. You said you know enough to fill in. Move your ass or I'm coming over there with a gun!" Claire paused abruptly with a groan, and he could hear a deeper voice speaking to her. 

"Yeah, okay, I'm coming. Who's with you?" 

"Kevin." 

Dean nodded, "I'll be there in a minute. You got that birth kit, right? Do I need to bring anything?" 

Dean could make out another pained groan, and dull thump, and Kevin muttering in pain just before Claire spoke, "Dean, I swear to God, I will find you, do you understand?... Oh, shit!..." 

"Okay. Yeah. I'm gonna be right there, deep breaths." 

Cas started to get up as Dean ended the call. 

"Where do you think you're going?" Dean asked abruptly. 

"To Claire's." 

"The midwife isn't there, neither is Alfie, and she was going this route because she wanted to be left alone as much as possible, remember?" 

Cas shrugged and moved to set down the glass, "I'll wait on the porch." 

"Fine... No, don't leave that glass here, you're not getting out of it until your cholesterol's down." 

* * *

Dean hurried into the house that had at one time been Bobby's, stepping over a garden hose that had been run from the downstairs showerhead pipe. Just past the stairs in the small living room, the couch had been pushed aside, a birth tub had been set up, and Claire was in the warm water, leaning heavily on the side.

She was quiet, with one arm around Kevin's neck, and Dean could hear her breathing speed up quickly as her arm tightened around Kevin's neck, and she hissed a slew of curses before her arm suddenly jerked and her other fist struck the side of the tub. 

Kevin wobbled slightly as her arm slacked at the end of the contraction, although he stayed a bit purple. 

"How close are they?" Dean asked softly. 

"FUCKYOUTHAT'SHOWCLOSETHEYARE!" Claire yelled before settling her head against Kevin's shoulder again, "Fucking Margaret ditched me." 

"It's not like that, she'd be here if she cou-" Kevin started. 

"All I have is you assclowns, I swear, I- ohfuckthis!" Claire mumbled as her arm tightened, choking Kevin again. 

"Claire, you gotta breathe through it, don't hold your breath." Dean said firmly, noticing Claire's face turning red. Kevin didn't look to be in much better shape, but Dean spotted the package of sterile medical tools purchased for the occasion and came closer, taking Claire's arm from Kevin's neck, "Kevin, go get some towels from upstairs and throw them in the dryer to warm them up." 

Claire caught hold of Dean's shirt the moment he was in range, and pulled him closer with a strength that surprised him, even having taken a few of her punches in the past, "Get it out." 

"What time did the contractions get bad?" 

"I need it out. Just make it hurry up." 

"Claire, breathe, you got another one-" 

Dean was cut off as she let go, dropping to the side of the birth tub, her hands clenching at the edge of it, resting her forehead on the plastic. Dean set a comforting hand on her back as she growled through her contraction. 

"You gotta breathe, kid. Otherwise, I'm getting an air compressor." 

Claire shook her head, but her breaths changed to quick, sharp, and shallow until she calmed, and was able to sit up again, "I can't... I can't do this. Where the hell is he?" 

"Are you gonna kill him when he gets here?" Dean asked. 

"I don't know." Claire whimpered. 

"Okay... It's okay..." 

"Where's dad?" 

"He's outside." Dean replied, "Thought you'd want privacy for this." 

Another wave of pain washed through her as her body took over from her conscious mind, and as Dean tried to help support her, he was rewarded with a sharp jab in the ribs, "Fuck my life! I wasn't even gonna have kids!... Can you do a c-section on the floor?" 

"I'm not doing that." 

"Why not? I thought you cared!" Claire whimpered before she took several deep breaths as she tried to rest between contractions, and Dean took a moment to check her hands. The skin over her knuckles on her right hand was about as mangled as he expected. 

Kevin came back in from the garage looking helpless, having accomplished his task, and Dean immediately pointed to the birth kit, speaking softly, "Get that over here, and get it open." 

"Where's is that goddamn midwife?... She said she was going to be here. I'm a week late, and she's still-" Claire cut off into an enraged storm of panting and slamming her hand into the side of the tub again until Dean caught her by the arm, and pulled her close. 

"It's okay. This part doesn't last. It's actually going really fast, and soon, you're gonna have your baby all wrapped up-" 

"It's a fucking alien trying to crack me open!" 

"-in a blanket, and be able to see it's face-" 

"I don't want to do this anymore! I'm done." 

"-and this whole thing is gonna be over, okay?" 

Claire groaned through another contraction, and answered him once she could speak again, "Eat shit and die!" 

"Atta-girl." Dean replied. 

Kevin looked up from where he'd put the kit, "Is the water still warm enough?" 

"You ask me that one more time, I'll drown you in it." Claire hissed. 

"I'm gonna try Samandriel again, see how close he is." Kevin said quietly, "From the porch." 

"Good idea." Dean replied, and turned back to Claire, "You're gonna be fine. I don't think you've got more than an hour left, okay? Not when they're this close together... Are you pushing at all? Or do you feel like you need to?" 

Claire was about to say something, but instead she started to shake, grabbing his shirt again, "Get me out." 

"What?" 

"Out. I need out." 

Dean caught her as she tried to stand, and supported her as she climbed out on shaking legs to kneel on a towel that had been spread on the floor by the tub, the thin fabric of long tshirt she wore drenched, and sitting high on her thighs. He called Kevin back inside, "Go get the towels from the dryer." 

"But I just-" 

"Now." 

Kevin hurried back to the garage, his phone still to his ear. 

"He was supposed to be here." Claire fussed, "Supposed to bond with his child... sing to the baby... And he's not." 

"He'll be here soon." Dean said softly, making sure she could stay upright without falling over as she continued to hold onto the tub, "Real soon... Okay, maybe not as soon as you'd want." 

Claire caught the change in Dean's voice as he spoke, "What? Why?" 

Kevin had just entered the room again and Dean took the pile of towels from him and shooed him back outside. 

"Because you're almost done. Just do me a favor," Dean said quickly arranging a couple of the warm towels below her, "Big, slow breaths for a minute while I get some gloves, okay?" 

"What the hell does that mean?" Claire gasped out as another contraction began. 

"You're crowning. Just breathe, try to relax-" 

Claire clenched the side of the tub harder with a deep groan, as Dean dropped the gloves, and cringing, reached for her. 

She was shaking her head and panting as the contraction wound down, but Dean spoke up, "Claire, listen... I got the baby's head. You give me one good push, and we're probably done, okay? Just go with it on the next one, okay? And deep breaths, so you don't faint." 

Claire didn't move, or attempt to speak, but as Dean reluctantly waited with his hands dripping, he caught sight of something he didn't like. 

"Coming up fast, right? Give me a second, I gotta do something, the cord is... yeah... It's okay, just hang on..." Dean said quietly, slipping a finger against the baby's neck, and sliding a loop of the cord over it's head. He'd barely let it go as another contraction swept through, and the baby slid out into Dean's hands. 

He quickly brought the tiny bundle of squirming, gooey limbs down into the towels, wrapping it up and passing it between Claire's legs, and turned her to sit down with her back against the tub, wrapping another towel around her as she went before lifting the baby to her arms. 

"We can't wait too long for the rest to come out, you know. But you got a few minutes." 

Claire didn't seem to register his words as she stared at her baby's face, "I thought they were supposed to cry?" 

"You're gonna get enough of that later." Dean replied, pulling two plastic clips and a sterile pair of scissors from the kit, and checking whether the cord was still pulsing. 

"What if there's too much fluid in the lungs?" Claire asked weakly. 

Dean shrugged and took a rubber suction bulb from the kit and used it in one of the baby's nostrils, "Huh... usually that sets them right off. But looking around like that, all alert, I'm not too worried." 

Dean set about gently cleaning the baby off, and quickly switched it to yet another towel before realizing something neither of them had checked. 

"Hey, did you check if it's a boy or a girl?" 

Claire gave him a hazy, tear-streaked and hormone laden look as his jostling had started a sharp cry from the child. 

Dean opened up the towel just enough to check and adjust where the cord was sitting, "It's a girl." 

"I have a baby girl?" Claire asked quietly as her tears continued to flow. 

"Yeah, you do." Dean answered, "She looks just like you, and I'm sure her dad's gonna be here any minute... I'm sorry, but you're not quite done yet. You okay if we get somebody to hold her for a bit?" 

Claire nodded, "Dad can... Where the hell is Alfie?" 

Dean shook his head and leaned back, calling Cas into the room, then set about clamping the cord with the sterile plastic clips from the kit, "You want to do this part?" 

Claire let Dean help her settle the baby onto her lap and get the scissors into her hand. Even after being put through the wringer of childbirth, she managed to cut through the rubbery tube. 

"Where's your phone? I wanna get your midwife on to tell me what I'm doing." 

* * *

Cas hadn't been able to handle the state of the living room for very long, and had carried the tiny bundle out to the front porch to wait in the warm night air.

He'd rocked her carefully to settle her, torn between a beaming joy over his newborn grandchild, and a deep concern over the sound coming from inside the house. 

Kevin was leaning against the wall of the house next to him, also getting a good look at the brand new baby when headlights flashed across the yard, and Alfie's car pulled up as close as he could get before getting out and going straight for the door. 

As fast as Alfie was moving, Kevin barely had time to swing an arm in front of his shoulders as he reached the door, "Where are you going?" 

"Is Claire...? Did I miss it?" Alfie asked quietly as Cas quickly stood up, carefully passing Alfie the bundled up baby before Alfie was aware of what it was. 

As realization struck him, he froze, and Cas had to adjust Alfie's arms around the baby. 

"This is...? Um-" 

"Your princess, yes." Cas replied. 

Alfie's face lit up for a brief second before he suddenly tried to pass her back to Cas, "I can't, I just changed a tire, she's gonna get... Where's the midwife's car?" 

A heavy thud sounded from inside, followed by some hushed swearing from Dean. 

"Is she okay?" Alfie asked quickly as Kevin got the screen door for him, and he hurried inside. 

"Well... She's beautiful, but, I gotta get home." Kevin said softly, patting Cas on the shoulder, "Tell them I said congrats, okay?" 

* * *

Alfie was in a complete daze as he found Claire doing her best to sit up on the floor.

"Do you think you can walk?" Dean asked quietly. 

Claire shifted uncomfortably and started to make a weak attempt to stand, but Dean stopped her, adjusting the robe he'd put around her, picking her up and going for the stairs. 

Cas had followed Alfie inside, closing the door, "Dean?" 

"Yeah? Can you make her something to eat? She's gotta get her strength back. High calorie." Dean called back down. 

Cas went straight into the kitchen, and suddenly Alfie found himself alone in the room surrounded by remnants of the chaos of birth, staring down into a tiny face with intensely blue eyes. 

"Oh my god..." he whispered, fighting back the urge to cry, "You are just as beautiful as your mom." 

Dean came back out of the bedroom to the top of the stairs, "Alfie?" 

"Yeah?" 

"I know, it's a big deal, but you need to go put a diaper on her and get her in here, the sooner the baby eats, the better Claire's gonna heal up. So, y'know, handle this first, you got all night to stare at her." 

Alfie nodded, and started up the stairs as carefully as he could possibly go. Dean got out of Alfie's way as he went for the smaller bedroom they'd turned into a nursery. 

"After she nurses for a while, she's gonna need a bath, just make sure you go easy on the baby soap, mostly water, don't scrub too hard, and keep her head supported, keep her warm... If anything seems even a little bit weird with either one of them, you're gonna call right away." 

Alfie nodded, "Yeah. Anything weird." 

He could hear Dean speaking to Claire and washing up in the attached bathroom as he went into the nursery, setting his tiny, new daughter on the changing table and carefully unwrapping her just long enough to put a diaper on her, but he found himself distracted by her tiny, perfect fingers and their strong grasp. 

* * *

Dean came down the stairs quietly, and found Cas about to head up with a plate containing a sandwich and a can of cola in his other hand, "Hang on, caffeine, bad idea."

"I don't think it'll keep her awake." Cas replied. 

"Gets in the milk, makes newborns cranky. If she's gonna try it, better some other night." Dean replied, taking the can from him, and ducking back into the kitchen and switching it out for a lemon-lime soda. 

"There we go. I'm gonna go ahead and start cleaning this up." 

Cas accepted the replacement and headed upstairs. Quietly, listening to Alfie muttering to himself about baby pajamas in one room, he pressed open the door of the other room. 

Claire was propped up on a few pillows, her hair still damp with sweat, and her face ashen. 

"I can't believe I did that." she said quietly. 

Cas brought the plate and soda can to the bedside table, and hugged her gently, "I can. I've known for years that you were a force to be reckoned with. That little girl couldn't ask for a better mother, or an example of a stronger woman. I'm very proud of you." 

"I'm never gonna be able to look Dean in the eye again." 

"After all the dead strippers you've hid in his trunk, do you really think a little thing like childbirth is going to make things awkward?" Cas asked, letting go and opening her can of soda for her. 

Alfie walked in slowly, still a mixture of overly cautious and absolute awe as he carried the baby to Claire. 

"And when do we finally find out her name?" Cas asked. 

"When we figure it out." Claire answered, "The big secret is, we still have no idea, we couldn't decide on one yet." 

"Out of several?" 

Claire laughed weakly, "No, like, at all. Completely stuck." 

Cas passed her the plate, "I'm sure whatever you both decide on will suit her just fine. She can always change it later." 

He looked to Alfie, sitting on the other side of the bed, still in shock. 

"I'll go help Dean clean up downstairs." Cas said quietly, "We'll lock up as we're leaving, unless the midwife shows up. Call if you need anything." 

The door clicked shut, and Alfie slid closer, curling up around Claire as she started trying to get the baby to latch. He propped a pillow under her arm as he'd seen Margaret do several times with Mike. 

"I'm sorry... I never should have left town in the first place." Alfie whispered. 

"It's okay." 

"It's not. This isn't... I let you down, I let her down, this is my fault. If I hadn't gone in the first place, the flat tire wouldn't have mattered at all. Instead, I just failed you both." 

"You got here as fast as you could. Now, drop the blame stuff, we have to figure out what we're calling her, or I'm gonna put 'It' on her birth certificate." 

Alfie stretched carefully to avoid moving Claire at all or bumping the newborn, and kissed Claire softly, "Did you ever make that list of names you hate?" 

"No." 

"Okay, so, still at square one." Alfie reached past her, taking the plate from the nightstand and wordlessly insisting she eat. 

Claire managed a few bites, but soon the baby had fallen asleep, and Alfie had gone to set up the small container in the bathroom sink as the midwife had previously showed him. 

He came back to the bed after fetching another diaper and a sleeper from the next room, hesitant to move the tiny sleeping baby. 

"Are you going to stand there while the water gets cold?" Claire whispered. 

"Well, just, she's been through a lot tonight, I don't know if it's fair to wake her up." 

"Okay, well, wake her up or not, but get her off me." Claire replied softly, spurring him into motion. 

Alfie was soon at the bathroom sink, quietly apologizing repeatedly, as he was certain the infant was unhappy about the water, and Claire hurried through the rest of her sandwich, mostly out of obligation. She was happy to find that unlike every meal for the last month and a half, her heartburn was gone. 

She set the plate down, just as Alfie came back into the room, taking the tiny bundle from his shoulder and laying her, wrapped in a large towel, on the bed. 

"I know, I know, I'm sorry... I'll give you back as soon as you're dried off, I promise." Alfie looked up, helplessness all over his face, "I don't think she likes me." 

"She liked you just fine before, you'd talk, and she'd get wiggly, and you'd put your hands on her, and she'd settle down. She's probably just cold." Claire replied, trying to get comfortable, and finding it much easier than before, even if she did feel tired enough that the skin could fall from her bones unnoticed. 

"I don't remember Mike moving his head this much." Alfie said quietly, finishing his task at clothing the tiny being, and passing her back to her mother. 

Claire was still in a bit of a haze, and settled the baby to nurse on the other side, and found it fall easier to lay down, "She needs a name. I'm not sleeping until she gets a name." 

"I'm not sure you're not sleeping already, you look beat." Alfie chuckled, "Okay, um, what's your middle name?" 

Claire shook her head, "Absolutely not." 

"I had a cat named-" Alfie caught the looked in Claire's eyes and stopped himself, "Okay, what if we just think it over in the morning, when you haven't just given birth?" 

"We had nine months to figure this-" Claire looked down at the baby, who had stopped suckling and made an odd humming sound, before resuming, "Okay, that was weird..." 

"So, generic girls names? Ann, Betsy, Chrissie, Dora-" 

"Melody." 

Alfie was quiet for a moment, "You want to name her after our song?" 

Claire stroked a finger against a missed spot of waxy vernix in the baby's ear, a small smile beginning to spread, "Dean was going crazy because I wouldn't stop humming it... That first trip to Dallas, when we weren't talking. I was losing my mind trying to figure out what song that was." 

She touched her daughter's soft cheek before looking up to find Alfie had settled next to her with a small smile of his own, "So, you mean, every time I speak to my little girl, I'm gonna remember that prom, our first dance together, and leaning on you, because you didn't care that I couldn't even stand on my own at that point? And trying to top out the speedometer in that car at the old airport? ...Yeah, okay, I guess I can deal with that." 

* * *

** **

** Now **

** **

* * *

"It's not gonna be forever," Dean tried to reassure Claire as the shop door closed behind Cas, setting a hand on her shoulder, "He gets, like, ten feet from the door, and she quiets down. I give it a week or two. But it wouldn't kill you to take another month off."

"Nah, it's just killing the shop, and keeping Alfie from getting anything new made. He can't even work when she's taking a nap, he forgets what he's doing and just stares at her." Claire shook her head. 

"How's that new cleaning service working out?" 

"I hate it." Claire replied, "But I guess it works. Eventually, though, I want things back to normal." 

Dean chuckled, "Oh, that'll happen. In about eighteen years. More, if there's any more kids down the line." 

"Yeah, well, I got about three hours, so, don't mind me just holing up in the office, see what I can't get done." Claire answered, heading for the hallway. 

Dean caught a motion from her back that he was sure had to be a wistful look toward the garage as she slunk back to the desk in the tiny office. 

* * *

The salon was full of the usual chatter, high toned and happy as they usually were, until, as Kevin was finishing up with a client, the young woman working the front desk came to the back of the room, speaking to him quietly.

"You've got a walk-in." 

His mood changed immediately, and he nodded his understanding, a wisp of hot pink hair dropping into his eyes as he moved, only to be pushed back into place with the rest of his dark hair, his half-jovial expression frozen on his face. 

He accompanied his client to the front, and spotted her immediately. Her purse had a large worn area near the bottom with a hole large enough to let keys slip out, her jeans were stained, and the blouse she wore was two sizes too large for her. Her eyes were red, and she had a look he'd become far too used to seeing. 

He did his best to offer her an encouraging smile as he waved her forward to follow him back to the chair. 

"Give me just a moment, and we'll get started." he said, reaching for the broom, quickly collecting the small pieces of leftover hair and pushing them straight into the stationary vacuum nearby. 

He soon came back, and gestured to the chair, "Here, have a seat. What are we doing today?" 

"Um... I didn't come here for a haircut." she said softly, "This was about something else, my friend said-" 

"I know. But trust me, you'll feel so much better about yourself. And it'll give us some time to talk things over. There's no charge." 

She seemed to give in an inch at a time, tears welling up in her eyes when she finally sat down. 

He turned the chair to face the mirror and covered her with a cape before attempting to untie a ponytail he would hazard a guess had been slept in, possibly two or three times. 

It was hard to miss the look of shame on her face, but he did his best to show sympathy without pity. 

"I need to cut this elastic, okay? I'll give you a few new ones to take with you, you won't miss it." 

She gave a weak nod, and he reached for the scissors. Her eyes went up to the top of the mirror to a picture of a little boy, roughly four or five years old, "Who's that?" 

"That's my son, Mike. He's starting kindergarten in a couple of months. His preschool is great, he's already reading a few words... You have any kids?" 

Her next words hit him hard, touching a vital memory, "No... Not yet. I'm pregnant, though... And my husband, um..." 

"Not a fan of kids?" 

"I don't know." she replied, as he worked a tangle out of her hair as gently as possible, "I'm not sure I want to find out. I mean, he could be a good dad, and just, y'know, not good at relationships." 

"That's rare. Really, really rare. And it's also not a good reason to stay... So, big question, you're just done with him? I mean, where are you at with this?" 

She shrugged, "Well... I can't stay. I mean, I love him, that's why we got married, but the baby... um..." 

"The hardest part for the folks on my end of things isn't when a woman comes in for help... It's when they go back. It's watching them ignore every bit of common sense that tells them one day he's gonna hit too hard, throw something too heavy, and she's gonna die. Trust me, I know about that little battle, but you need to think about what's the safest option. If you're not safe, he's not worth risking your life." 

She wiped at her eyes as Kevin pulled a box of tissues from a nearby drawer, setting them in easy reach and picking up a spray bottle of water, "I went to my mom's house for a couple days last year, and he called me, he was crying." 

"I'm not saying he doesn't have feelings. Men have feelings, but letting anger take control? Or worse, just wanting to keep another adult under their thumb? That's crossing the line. Is he in the area right now?" 

"He's at the liquor store down the street." 

With a nod, Kevin turned the chair to have her back face the front windows, and pushed her purse out of sight, "Is he going to come looking for you?" 

"Not here... He'd never let me in here." she choked down a sob as she reached for a second tissue, "If he finds me in here he's gonna lose it. Probably call me a slut, and, well, he might beat you up... God, I'm so sorry, it's just been really hard." 

Kevin shook his head, "Don't ever apologize for trying to get away from somebody who'd hurt you. Maybe you're in a bad spot right now, but you still deserve a good life." 

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

"No way," the young woman on Xander's lap giggled, "You work at a vet's office?" 

"Yeah," Ben replied, "I started during the summer. They won't let me do the, y'know, medical stuff, but there's a lot I can do to make it easier on the veterinarians, like answering the phones, stocking supplies, that kind of thing." 

Xander rolled his eyes, annoyed by the close proximity of the girl from the cheerleading squad. Even having made the football team, somehow Ben was still more popular, and he regularly felt like a prop in the background. 

Jack laughed, "Oh yeah, Ben loves those fluffy little animals, just wants to take good care of them. Especially cats." 

"Shut up." Ben scoffed. 

"Really?" she asked. 

"Oh yeah. See, he can't have a cat. There's no cats at their house, their dad's allergic. Probably allergic to chicks, too, since there aren't any of those, either." Jack continued as Ben started shaking his head. As usual, Jack was bound to take things too far, but Ben and Xander were jaded by years of exposure to his idea of a joke, "No pussies of any kind. Completely allergic. Just can't remember which dad has which allergy." 

The girl laughed hard enough to shake Xander slightly, furthering his annoyance as being treated like furniture. He'd made an attempt to cope with her flirtations, but there was no denying she had more interest in Ben and Jack than in him. 

"Yeah," Xander said firmly, "That's why Jack can't hang out at our house anymore. Usually it's a mild reaction, but not with him, because he's the biggest-" 

"Oh, come on!" Jack protested. 

"Nah, man, you walked into that one." Ben said with a laugh. 

Xander shifted slightly, getting up, displacing the girl, who tried to give a word or two of false disappointment, and headed across the street from the sandwich shop, toward the middle school. 

He'd gotten halfway through the school parking lot before his phone chimed with a message from Ben, nothing but a question mark. 

'Chill, just fig i'll ride with pops' 

Soon, his phone chimed again, 'J says hes sorry' 

'we're cooll' 

He made his way through the front doors and into the middle school office, looking over the counter, "Hey Ms Paula." 

"Xander! Nice to see you! I heard you made the football team, congrats!" Paula said with a big smile. 

"Yeah, well, looks like I only have one extra year of high school, I gotta make the most of it." Xander replied. 

Paula shook her head, "You're lucky it's only the one. You had such a hard time, and you worked so hard to get back on your feet. You should be proud. And once you graduate, you'll have plenty of resources to help you through college." 

Xander avoided her eyes, "Right... So, is my dad about done for the day?" 

"He's meeting with the P.E. coaches right now, but it won't be much longer... How's your brother doing?" 

"Good. Grades are good, teachers like him, and somehow, despite the giant nerd reputation, a bunch of girls follow him around. Pretty sure he's gonna stop wetting the bed any day now." 

Paula chuckled in spite of herself, "That's not nice." 

"Yeah, but can you blame me?" Xander asked, "At least at home, I'm the favorite." 

"Really? Even with the new baby?" 

Xander chuckled, "The baby doesn't live there, so, yeah, still the favorite." 

Cas' voice was audible before he came around the corner with three teachers and a district coordinator, "...at which point, the board will have us all doing something completely different, I'm sure." 

The group broke up, and Cas came to the desk, "I thought you'd get a ride home with Ben?" 

"Nah, he and Jack are slinging the rulers around again, hanging out with some girl." Xander replied. 

Cas nodded, unsurprised. Xander seemed to have no interest in women, and although both Cas and Dean kept a loving ear open, they'd jointly decided to leave the timing for that conversation up to Xander. 

* * *

Margaret had finally finished filing the new intake paperwork and authorized background checks for two new licensed counselors, when the door of her office cracked open, "Margaret?"

"Yes?" she asked, looking up from the computer. 

"Brittany wants to leave. She's ready to walk out and hitchhike, Kelly can't talk her down." 

Margaret's face fell immediately, "Please tell me she's going to her mom's." 

The woman gave a small shake of her head, and Margaret understood. 

"Okay... Make sure she knows the drill, she gets dropped off at the police station, remind her she signed a non-disclosure agreement, and if she gives out the location, not only will we press charges, she doesn't come back. Make sure she has the emergency line memorized, and show her those intake photos of what he did to her face before she signs out." 

With a grim nod, she closed the door, and Margaret pulled her phone from her purse, texting Kevin, 'Remind me why we do this' 

A moment later her phone vibrated in her hand, 'another one?' 

'Yeah' 

'We do this for all the ones who can brake the cycle, you know that. if 10 go back, 1 gets out, still worth it' 

Margaret leaned forward, bracing her elbows on the desk as she rubbed heavily at her face. She tried to chalk it up to a long day, but it was rather stressful to be involved at all. Someone had to do it, though, someone had to keep the place running, in spite of their high turnover rate for employees. 

Even Claire, as strong and as jaded as she was, avoided the place, and only came in to help put out the occasional organizational fire. 

So many people would be hired on and have to leave in only a month or two. Twice, new hires had quit the same day. It was one thing to donate to a women's shelter, it was completely different to be exposed to women and children suffering fresh effects of abuse day in and day out. 

She was burning out, and she knew it. 

'Kev, we need a vacation' she texted, 'I'm losing it.' 

* * *

The chipper and friendly young lady had had to leave, and despite their mild protests, neither Jack nor Ben were entirely displeased to watch her go, finding a silver lining in watching her walk away.

"Dude." Jack said quietly, "You gotta ask her out." 

"I dunno... She's hot, but, just..." Ben shook his head. 

"There's no but, just butt. Go for it. Call her right now, tell her you want to hit a movie. Pick a boring one so there's nothing else to do but make out." 

"I'm not calling her. Knock yourself out." Ben replied. 

Jack gestured in the way she'd gone, and back to Ben in obvious frustration, "Oh my god! I know your last girlfriend was shit, but you gotta get back on the horse, man! Or at least have something to mount!" 

"Did you seriously just go there?" Ben growled. 

Jack shrugged, "Hey, some girls dig the causal thing, and they're awesome. But, man, you haven't even been trying to find a new girlfriend. I know the last one tore up your reputation, but you gotta have some shred of dignity left, even after that psycho." 

"She wasn't that bad." Ben scoffed. 

"She crashed your car, then told everyone you crashed it driving like a maniac because you had a micro-dick. And then, even though you broke up with her, you still gave her a ride home every day for a week, until she could make other arrangements... Dude, there's normal guys, whipped, pussies, and then way down here, there's you." Jack said, gesturing various levels in the air. 

Ben shook his head, "Look, Eliz-" 

"No! We do not speak her name! She's like Voldemort, it gives her power." 

"Right." Ben chuckled, "Well, give it a rest, I'll start dating again when I find a girl I'm into." 

Jack scoffed, "You're gonna be a monk, like Xander." 

"Could be worse, I could be you." Ben retorted. 

* * *

Claire sat on the living room floor, trying to sort out paperwork from the shop as Melody squirmed around on a large blanket close by, tightly gripping a soft plastic teether. She looked up from time to time, making certain Melody was still on the blanket.

The door opened quietly, and she recognized Alfie's footsteps before he even entered the room. He started to bend down to pick Melody up, but Claire shook her head, "I just put her down, she needs another five minutes." 

"Oh... Okay, do you need a break?" 

"No, I'm good." she answered. 

Alfie shrugged and looked around, "Well, um, looks like everything's settled down enough on both sides, Kevin and Margaret want to know if they can bring Mike over to meet her tonight." 

Claire nodded, "You mean actual grown-up time? Hell yes." 

"Whoa, language." 

"No. I'm getting out of my system for later when Mike's here. Besides, she won't remember it." 

Alfie nodded, "Okay, let me record you saying that, for when she's two and drops an f-bomb at your dad's house." 

"I'll blame it on Ben." 

Alfie got down on the floor next to the blanket, stretching out on his side, watching as Melody, in her very round, soft, and babyish way, rolled slightly with little control, sending a quick confirmation text to Kevin before setting his phone on the coffee table. 

"Hey, pumpkin... Did you go to Pop-pop's house today?" Alfie asked, reaching for her with one hand. 

Melody let go of her toy, grabbing at his fingers as Claire answered for her, "Not today, he just stopped by long enough to let me grab this pile of crap from the shop and get back over here, then he went home... What do you want for dinner?" 

"Kevin said he's bringing it. Probably take-out." 

"Thank god, last thing I want to do is more dishes." Claire replied, stacking several different stacks of paper together and setting them on the coffee table. 

Alfie rolled onto his back, getting an upside down view of her face, and reached for her hand, "So... I know I said-" 

"Oh, c'mon!" Claire snapped. 

"What?" 

"Naomi, right?" 

"Claire, please-" 

"Six months! You promised me-" she cut herself off, her voice giving her away as tears brimmed, "You said you weren't taking anymore trips for six months. And it's not like you have to, the show in Chicago got huge reviews, and you weren't even there!" 

Alfie sat up immediately, scooting closer and pulling her into a tight embrace, "It's a much bigger gallery, in a much bigger town." 

"Where?" Claire grumbled. 

"New York City." 

"You've been there already." 

"At small places, yeah. This one, though... This is, uh..." 

"How big is this?" 

"It's big. But also, my mother is going to be there... And then she wants to come to town and meet both of you." 

Claire glowered, "The bitch didn't even visit you when you almost died, she forgets when your birthday is every year, and didn't even come to the wedding despite having the date set over a year in advance... And you want her to come sit on my couch and coo over my child like she's an actual grandmother? How am I supposed to communicate with her, anyway?" 

"Her English has gotten a lot better the last couple of years, she was dating some Australian guy." 

"I can't believe this." Claire said, getting up from the floor and heading for the stairs. 

"She might be a walking pile of neglect, but she's still my mother." Alfie called softly. 

"Yeah, I have one of those, too. Doesn't mean I want her around." Claire answered before heading upstairs. 

Alfie looked down at his daughter, who took the teether from her mouth and made a rather demanding sound. 

"Okay, Mel, listen," Alfie whispered, leaning toward her, "You're gonna meet this old lady that sounds weird and smells weird, but no matter what she says, you only have one grandma, and that's Linda. Got it?" 

In the silence he heard the shower start to run, and reached for her, scooping her up. 

"That was close enough to five minutes. You'll start scooting when you're ready." 

* * *

"Are you freaking kidding me?" Dean asked from the porch swing as Ben started into the house. 

"What?" 

"You still haven't fixed the paint, it's supposed to rain tonight, if you aren't going to park it in the shop or the paint shed, you could at least put the damn cover on it!" Dean gestured to the car. 

Ben scoffed, "It's a beater." 

"Yeah. And you're gonna turn it into a rusted pile of shit. You could take care of it and have a classic instead of a beater, but that takes a little work and consideration from the owner." 

"Dean-" Cas started from his seat next to him. 

"Any rust is gonna come off with the rest of the paint, when I get to it." Ben argued. 

"That's not the point." Dean replied. 

Ben put his hands up, and started for the back gate, "I'm gonna go check on the dogs. You know, the living, breathing creatures that don't run on gas, and actually matter?" 

Dean took a swig of his beer, grumbling as Ben walked away, "Guess that's what I get for giving a teenager a Mustang. Should have started him off with a wood paneled station wagon." 

"He has his priorities, they're just different from yours." Cas said softly. 

"If he spent half the time on that car that he does fostering puppies from the shelter-" 

"He would be bored to tears because he's not a car-person. He's an animal-person. You would think, as much as you wanted to become a doctor, you'd step back and let him nurture and heal things." Cas said, setting his nearly empty wine glass on the railing in front of him with a look of distaste, "And, anyway, at least you have Claire to pal around with." 

Dean shook his head, "I just... I don't know where he gets it. Not from me, or from Lisa... Sam, maybe." 

"It doesn't really matter where he got it, it's who he is. And non-car-people are not going to obsess over the rust on an old junker like that." Cas said quietly, watching as Dean's agitation slowly grew, "What?" 

Dean shook his head, still shooting glances at the Mustang. 

"Dean..." 

"What?" 

"Go inside and leave the car alone." 

"If it starts to rust-" 

"It's already rusty." 

"Yeah, but the cover-" 

"It's not important." Cas answered sharply, moving to stand up. 

Dean leaned forward, taking the wine glass and holding it out to him insistently. Cas rolled his eyes and took the glass, downing what was left. 

"Satisfied?" he asked, passing Dean the empty glass. 

"Usually, yeah. Where you're concerned, anyway." 

* * *

Claire was sitting on the couch and had just finished feeding Melody when she heard voices outside, and footsteps on the front porch. She hurriedly closed the cup on the nursing bra as a quiet knock came, and pulled her shirt down into place, wiping residual milk and drool from Melody's face.

Alfie hurried downstairs to answer the door as she shifted the baby to burp her, patting her back firmly. Plastic bags rustled into the kitchen behind her. 

"We aren't waking anybody up, are we?" Margaret asked quietly, coming into the room. 

"Nope. She just ate, so she'll be happy and awake for a while." Claire answered. 

"Oh my god, she's getting huge! As soon as you're sure she won't puke, I want a turn." Margaret leaned down near Claire's shoulder to get a look at Melody's face, touching her mostly bald head, "Still gorgeous." 

In the kitchen, Alfie was helping Kevin sort the take-out as Mike seemed to be glued to his father's leg. 

"How'd she take it?" Kevin asked quietly. 

Alfie made a rather disgruntled noise in response. 

"That good, huh?" 

"Well, she didn't tell me to cancel." 

"Which part?" 

"Any of it." 

Kevin shook his head, "You are setting yourself up for disappointment, man. Rachel's not family material, and she hates this town. You haven't seen her in how long? And not for lack of trying, though I wouldn't put it past her to call your bike wreck a ploy for attention." 

A guilty look washed over Kevin's face, "Claire pretty much said the same thing... I know it's a bad idea, but... I don't know. She didn't tell me until she bought the ticket." 

"She can change the ticket. And I'm pretty sure she-" Kevin glanced downward at his five year old, "Well, she wastes more money than that on nothing, so why feel guilty telling her it's not a good time for you guys, and she needs to plan ahead and fill you in on the details if she wants to see the baby?" 

"It just seems like I spent so long wishing she was around, asking her to come home, I finally get it, what am I supposed to say to her?" 

Kevin shrugged, "I could write you a list of things to say to her, none of them are nice. Look, we're both parents now, I think it's safe to say we can call her out on her-... uncoolness. Your dad, too." 

Alfie nodded, "Yeah, well, I kind of already implied it was okay." 

"Before consulting with Claire? Smart." Kevin said quietly before turning his attention to Mike, "Come on, buddy, let's go see the baby." 

Alfie started for the fridge for drinks as Kevin led the little boy into the living room, where Margaret was sitting in the armchair, talking to Claire, who'd turned Melody around with a burp-cloth held under her face. 

"There she is. That's the baby that was growing in Aunt Claire's tummy. You want to say hi?" 

Mike's eyes went wide before his face suddenly warped into a pre-tantrum scream, and he shrunk back, turning to his father in tears. 

Kevin scooped him up, "Hey, what's wrong? It's just a baby." 

"I don't like that baby!" Mike fussed. 

Margaret looked up in confusion, "Mike? Honey?" 

"No!" Mike answered, clinging to Kevin's neck. 

"I'm sorry," Margaret said softly, "I have no idea what's going on." 

Claire shook her head, "He's little, I'm sure it makes sense to him." 

Alfie stepped closer to Kevin, patting Mike's back, "Hey, you still like puppies?" 

* * *

Cas looked up as the back gate creaked open, surprised to see Alfie walking Mike around by the hand. He closed the grill and approached them.

"Is everything okay?" 

"Oh yeah, just, um... apparently three month olds are extremely frightening, so we're taking a walk, figured we'd come see the puppies... They're pretty sturdy, right?" Alfie asked. 

"They're large breed, so yes, fairly sturdy. Ben's walking them around in the trees right now, but he doesn't go very far." Cas watched as Mike went to the porch for a football Xander had left out, "He was scared of Melody?" 

"Screaming, tears, the whole nine yards. She wasn't even doing anything to startle him, he just took one look at her and flipped. But Claire needs some social time, so..." Alfie shrugged, "Oh, and I screwed up big time today. Short version; my mother's coming to meet the baby." 

"Why?" 

Alfie shrugged, "I know... I don't know what I was thinking... I shouldn't be allowed to make decisions." 

Ben tromped out of the woods behind the house, and Mike went running across the yard to play with the three large puppies that were following Ben closely. Nick followed a bit further back, her age showing in gray around her muzzle, her coat thinning in places. 

"Everyone loses sight of their better judgement occasionally, it's not as though you invited Claire's mother." Cas said quietly. 

"Yeah, that'll never happen. I looked her up online to find out what she looks like in case she ever shows up... Still, doesn't mean I have any idea what I'm doing... And I don't really have an 'out,' either...Shitty time to find out I'm no good at the whole parenting thing." 

"You're already doing better than I did." Cas said quietly, "I have faith in you." 

"That means a lot coming from you." Alfie replied. 

* * *

"What?" Margaret asked sharply, turning to call into the kitchen with Melody in her arms, "Kevin, did you know about this?"

Kevin came back to the living room, passing Claire a plate, "I found out today, and the first thing I said it was stupid, and he needed to talk to Claire first. I swear." 

"Thanks." Claire said, accepting the plate, making space for him as he moved past her to sit down, "I mean, it was a big freaking wedding, even his dad showed up. You'd think his mom.... Right?" 

"And the birthday thing." Kevin muttered. 

"Yeah, and the damn birthday thing. What the hell is her problem?" 

"Well, um, you know how self-absorbed Naomi is?" Kevin asked, getting a nod from Claire, "I've heard some stuff. Apparently they had an older sister who passed away really young, and their mom was a mess over that, and gave them anything they wanted, 'no' wasn't in the vocabulary. And since their folks could afford the occasional birthday-pony, it never came up." 

"Wow..." Claire breathed, "So she's a middle-aged spoiled brat?" 

"Dude, you've met her sister. Same thing, but with more whining." Kevin stuck a forkful of his own food in his mouth and then gestured to Melody, 

"And, sorry to say it, but you have something she wants. Samandriel was supposed to be a Samantha." 

Claire cringed, "Why didn't she just have more kids if she wanted a girl?" 

"Because it's called labor for a reason, it's hard. Anyway, you've got an advantage now, you know what her game is, and what her problem is. And don't be scared to tell her to leave." Kevin said encouragingly. 

Claire sighed, "I don't know, I mean, she'll just be gone later. I can tough it out." 

"Are you going to tough it out while she feeds Melody peanut butter and honey sandwiches?" Margaret asked. 

Claire thought for a moment, "This is going to suck..." 

"Just remember, she's prone to yelling at people to get her way, so - and not to chop his balls off, here, but marriage trumps parents, every marriage counselor says so - tell him the minute she starts yelling, she's gone, and if he won't stand up to her, kick her out. Do it every single time, just like those time-outs we had to do with Mike, same consequence every single time." Kevin said. 

"She's not three." Claire argued. 

"No, but it should make it pretty clear you'll treat her like she is if she acts like it." Margaret answered. Melody flapped her arms slightly, and Margaret turned her around, balancing as she pushed with her tiny, clumsy legs, attempting to stand. 

"I'm just worried this is going to end up like that thing with your dad." Claire said softly. 

Kevin shook his head, "She's very different. You don't have to worry about her getting violent or trying a kidnapping, she's just loud and demanding. 

She's not going to want to stick around for more than a couple of days, anyway, there's nowhere here for her to 'be seen.'" 

"Great, now I'm worried I'm going to over react... If I punch his mom, do you think Alfie would want a divorce?" 

Kevin shook his head, "Maybe from me, never from you... Relax, Claire, you got this. You've handled everything else." 

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

In the time it took Dean to get his bearings and assure himself he was in his own bed with Cas sleeping peacefully beside him, he'd forgotten his nightmare entirely.

Still shaking slightly, he settled his cheek against Cas' bare sternum and wrapped an arm around his waist. Soon, one of Cas' hands had found his hair, always something he found relaxing, and he was about to drift off. 

"Dean?" Cas mumbled in a tone Dean never heard when his husband was awake. It was a secret pleasure for him, to know Cas would speak to him directly from his dreams, never remembering their conversations in the morning. 

"Yeah, Cas?" 

"...you move the basting brush?" 

Dean smirked, "Sure did. I don't need a brush to get your meat wet." 

Cas' voice quietly turned into a grumpy warning so sleepy he couldn't help but find it cute, "Dean, we have company." 

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. Top shelf on the left." Dean replied with a chuckle. 

Cas' hand shifted softly in his hair as Dean closed his eyes once more, only to open them again at the hushed rumble of Cas' voice, "... twice as many detentions this week, something's broken... whole educational system is falling apart." 

"It'll be okay." 

"...failing the kids." 

"No, Cas, you're the one keeping it all together... Did you find the basting brush?" 

Cas made a sound that seemed affirmative, shifting his hand again, and went quiet. 

* * *

Julie wiggled carefully out from between her two daughters and started for the kitchen, determined to get a cup of coffee before the usual rush of breakfast, school, daycare, and work. She picked up her phone from the nightstand as she went to the kitchen, and found a late-night voicemail.

She set the phone to speaker and set it down on the counter as she sleepily tried to load the coffee pot, and Ivan's voice came through. 

"Julie, baby, I miss you... I hope you get this before you turn on the news, I want you to hear it from me... Julie, you know you can trust me, but some asshole took a stupid picture, now I'm gonna get all kinds of crap from this... Well, you know how I feel about this kid touring, and the label fudging her age. Somebody was trying to give her some stuff while her mom wasn't there, and I dragged her ass back to the bus, that's it, I swear. I've done it before, too, her mom's glad, actually, but that picture, it's already online..." 

Julie leaned on the counter, mumbling to herself, "It's too early for this..." 

"And you know how rumors are, just gotta ride it out." Ivan's voice continued, "I can't wait to get home, ditch the stupid metal get-up, and get some quality time with you and the girls... Love you, Julie. One more week. Hug them tight for me." 

Julie played the message again, to be sure she understood it all before sending him a text back, not wanting to interrupt any sleep he might be getting on the bus, 'Sounds like it's time. If it looks like you can make this work for you, it's ok. We both knew it would come out eventually' 

Soon she had both the girls awake, fed, dressed, and hurried out the door. She stopped at the elementary school first, waiting patiently in the car lane as one of the volunteers opened the back door on the sedan to let Cyndi out, and Julie waved at her when she stopped at the door, as they always did. 

She turned the radio on, hoping Susie wouldn't pay attention. The three-year-old actually looked less like Ivan than her older sister, her features nearly identical to her mother's baby pictures. 

With an occasional crackle, the morning radio show hosts were discussing the incident in a rather callous tone. 

_"I'm surprised, honestly. I mean, it's not a band, she's a solo artist. He plays in Lila Steele's backup band. They can replace this clown. I mean, who does he think he is?"_

_"Right, but at the same time, we don't know, I mean, they might be involved."_

_"Yeah, but even if they were dating, and let's remember, Lila said in an interview two weeks ago that she wasn't dating anyone, that doesn't give him any right to just grab her and pull her out of a room like that."_

Julie came to a stop at a red light, and rubbed at her temple. This sounded worse than she'd expected. 

_"I'm sure her manager will send him packing. I mean, everyone knows Lila Steele, at this point, she's the Taylor Swift of metal, but nobody's ever heard of this guy, I- what's his name?"_

"Ivan Lowery." Julie said softly in unison with one of the other hosts. 

_"See? I've forgotten it again already."_ the host answered his colleague, leading to a round of guffaws, _"But look at him, he's what, thirty? Thirty-five? There's been some contention on what Lila's age is, but there's no way this guy has any business being around her."_

_"Well, her mom goes on tour with her, so I'm sure, I mean, if she's a good mom, she'll keep this guy away from her kid... If you're just now joining us, there's a picture circling online of Lila Steele, a young metal-rock singer, being forcefully pulled from a room, supposedly against her will, by her lead guitarist. Now, she's been on tour with this guy, Ivan Lowery for the last five months, and they've got a show tonight in Omaha-"_

_"Well, she's got a show in Omaha."_

_"Right. We don't necessarily know that he's gonna be there."_

Julie reached over quickly and hit the power button on the car stereo as she pulled into the parking lot at the day care. 

* * *

"What is this?" the man growled.

"A quarter-panel for a oh-five Ford GT, treated with black primer." Xander replied. 

"That goes on the back of the car. What I need, what I paid for, is the front quarter." 

"You ordered a quarter-panel. Not a front fender." 

"I know what I ordered, what, do you think I'm stupid? I'm not taking this. I've waited weeks for this to get done, and paid too damn much for it. I want a black front quarter-panel in my hand, you've got one hour!" 

Xander chuckled and shook his head, "Sure. The minute I find a 'front quarter-panel.'" 

"You think this is funny?" the man snapped, "Did your mama drop you on your head, boy?" 

"Nope, did that myself. But even with brain damage, I know there's no such thing as a front quarter-panel." 

The man's face grew redder. "Goddammit, I swear. Always the same shit, some mechanic trying to rip people off by making shit up. Get your boss in here." 

"Yes, sir." Xander answered, carrying the large piece of shaped metal back behind the desk and setting it down. He went down the hallway, spotting Dean immediately, below the lift, discussing possibilities for a repair with Randy, and waved him closer. 

Dean settled the planned course of action, and approached him, "What's up?" 

"Customer ordered the wrong part, now he's pissed." 

"What does he think he ordered?" 

"A 'front' quarter-panel." 

"A fender?" 

Xander nodded. 

Dean shook his head, "Yeah, okay, c'mon." 

Xander followed after Dean as he made his way to the front desk, pulled out his phone, setting it down in front of the irate customer, and pressed the option for a voice search. The phone chimed, and the image of a microphone appeared on the screen. 

"Where can I buy a 'front quarter-panel' for a car?" Dean asked, in a strong, clear voice, enunciating each word. 

The phone chimed again, and a robotic voice answered him, _"Here are some places you can buy vehicle fenders. Singer Automotive, County Road one-twenty-one."_

"Same difference! I want the part I fucking paid for, now!" the angry man snapped. 

By this point, Lucas had slowly wandered in, always entertained by loud, unhappy customers, and he sat down on the arm of the couch close to the door with a bottle of water. 

"Hey, I can cancel your order, refund your money, and we can double check that we got the order in for exactly the right thing this time, but you're gonna have to mind your manners. This is a family establishment." Dean answered. 

"I am not waiting another two weeks just for this stupid asshole to screw it up again!" the man answered, gesturing to Xander. 

"You screwed it up when you ordered it. We have a diagram on the website to double-check folks are ordering the right stuff, and you confirmed the part you wanted was for the back of the car. Not his fault you have no idea what you're doing." Dean barked, before leaning down to the computer and hurriedly clicking a few buttons, causing the printer to start. Dean ignored the man's continued tirade until he snatched the paper from the printer, and thrust it at the man's face, "The card you paid with has been refunded, you'll get the full amount in three to five business days, take your attitude with you, and don't come back." 

Fury crossed the man's face as he snatched Dean's phone from the desk, and threw it at Xander's face, hitting him hard and splitting his lip. Dean reached for Xander as the man spun around to leave, yelling loudly, "You're ripping me off! I'm never gonna see a dime of my money back, and you wasted my time! I'm gonna sue you, and this whole place, all of you are getting fired once I get the owner on the phone!" 

Lucas waited until the man threw the door open, and bolted outside behind him. 

Dean caught Xander's face in his hands, checking the damage carefully, "Hey, you okay?" 

Xander nodded, trying to look down to where Dean's phone had hit the floor. The screen was shattered, and showed a mess of colors below the broken glass. 

Outside, Lucas ran up behind the car the man was headed toward, and took a close photo of his license plate. The man froze in his tracks, "What the hell do you think you're doing?" 

"What, this?" Lucas asked, "Making things easy for the sheriff's department to find you. Though they could probably track you down just fine with the credit card info." 

"Look, moron, those two in there are getting fired. You wanna be next on my list?" 

Lucas smirked, "Fired? ... You're gonna get the owner fired? And the owner's kid, who you just drew blood from?" 

The man leaned in close, "Get the hell out from behind my car." 

"Nope. I like standing here. You move your car, you add assault with a motor vehicle, and possibly deadly weapon, so, y'know, just keep digging that hole, buddy." 

"MOVE YOUR ASS OR I'M GONNA-" 

The door of the building slammed shut, gathering the man's attention to where Dean stood with Xander's phone to his ear, and a look of murder in his eyes, "Call the cops? Already on the way." 

* * *

Xander lay stretched out sideways over his bed, an ice pack on his mouth, trying to figure out where he'd gone wrong and set the guy off.

He heard Ben thump up the stairs loudly, along with Cas, who'd been in a mood since he got home to find law enforcement blocking the gravel road with no warning, calling after him to quiet down. 

"Dude... Man, that's not as bad as Dad said it was. Almost distracts from the rest of your face." Ben said obnoxiously, entering the room and dropping to the floor next to the bed, pulling a book from his backpack. 

"Asshole." Xander muttered. 

"Jeez, I must be the only one here who's day didn't suck. Check it out, Doc Parker gave me this book of these malformed animals. Most of them died at birth, or something, but, like, there's a calf with extra legs, check it out." Ben held the book up as Xander turned away. 

"Man, that's gross!" 

"I think this one's a sheep, but it's bald, and it's only got one eye." 

"Ben, cut that shit out!" Xander whined, "Can't believe this crap." 

"Oh, and the best part wasn't even the book." 

"Yeah? You scrape a dead skunk up off the road and bring it home in the truck to take apart?" Xander asked sarcastically. 

"No, this girl came in with her aunt's sick poodle. And she was, just, awesome." 

"Another phone number for your collection, 'grats. Why do I care?" 

Ben shook his head, "This one reads. And not like Amy, who said she reads, and then you find out she reads a bunch of shitty click-bait articles every day, I mean, she had a while to wait, and she pulled a Neil Gaiman book out of her bag." 

"And then she sat there and tried to act like she didn't notice you drooling on the counter, right?" 

"No. We talked, like, the whole time, and- Okay, so I was ramping up, kinda bracing myself, right? 'Cause I was going to ask her out, and out of nowhere, she asked me." 

"She asked you?" 

"She asked me out." Ben said with a nod, "That has never happened before." 

Xander shrugged. 

"And her shirt, was like, uh," Ben started to gesture close to his chest but gave up, changing his explanation, "Well, like, not trashy, but, y'know, like, hot. Like, church-hot." 

"What the hell is church-hot?" Xander asked. 

"I don't know, like, not showing off just everything, but mostly covered up, just a little bit showing, like, not wearing old lady clothes, just, she looked really nice." Ben rambled. 

"All the girls I know that go to church usually look like they're trying to find something wrong with people." Xander answered, "Except one, but I think her parents make her go." 

"Is she hot?" 

"I don't know." Xander mumbled. 

At the sound of someone clearing their throat, both of the boys turned to the doorway to find Dean gesturing to the stairs, "Dinner, five minutes. After that, one of you is on trash, the other's on dishes, Cas had a rough day." 

"Flip a coin?" Xander asked as Dean walked away. 

"Nah, you pick. I just feel so bad about your face. I mean, it was just so bad to start with." Ben said with a chuckle. 

"'Kay, I pick trash." Xander answered, getting up while simultaneously dumping what was left of the ice in the dish towel into Ben's lap. 

* * *

"Why didn't anyone call me?" Claire fussed.

"Because Dean handled it." Alfie said softly, stroking her hair. 

The television was quietly playing a monster movie Claire had seen many times before, and Alfie had lost interest, curling around her on the couch, and watching Melody as she nursed and began falling asleep. 

"He didn't handle it, not if Xander got hurt." she said, "And now this guy is gonna sue. I can practically feel it." 

"So your uncle will kick his ass." 

"It's not family law." 

Alfie shrugged, "Doesn't Xander count as 'special needs?'" 

"I have no idea... I think she's letting go." 

Alfie turned to face her as Claire carefully rolled Melody into Alfie's arms. 

He quickly slipped upstairs, settling her in the crib, grabbing the baby monitor, and hurried back to the couch. 

"I want my life back." Claire whispered, "But I hate being away from her." 

"What about one of those story time things? With other moms around?" 

"No. Too many kids." 

"We need a date night." 

Claire grumbled incoherently at the suggestion. 

"You haven't left the house without her aside from an hour or two at the shop since she's been born." Alfie said, pulling Claire close, "I'm not talking about getting a nanny to take over, or some babysitter we've never met, just a night out, a couple hours just for us... Okay, fine, Dean said you look miserable." 

"Great. I'll call him. Nope, wait, can't, his phone got broken on Xander's face. Totally trusting his judgment right now." 

"So he's wrong. You're not miserable, and he's full of shit? You're not completely stranded all by yourself over here on new-mom island?" Alfie asked, meeting her eyes. 

"Whatever, you hate being away from her, too." 

"Yeah, but I'm not going to hole-up and pretend the rest of the world doesn't exist until she's ready for Pre-K. I'm not neglecting myself to-... That came out wrong." 

"Yeah, I bet that's not at all what you meant." Claire said with a chill in her voice. 

"Trust me, I get how much this kills you, the whole maternal instinct thing, but my parents pretty much ditched me at every turn, so, it's not like I'm not feeling it either... Look, what did you say to Margaret about Linda watching Mike?" 

"Doesn't count. This is different." 

"How?" 

"I don't have postpartum depression." 

"You could. And you could still get it, it hasn't been a year. And sitting around here day in, day out, that doesn't sound like something that's going to prevent it." 

"How's Kevin doing?" Claire asked offhandedly. 

Alfie shook his head, replying in mock offense, "I can know women's stuff, too." 

After a long, quiet moment, Alfie gestured to the baby monitor on the coffee table, "Think it's been long enough that she'll stay asleep?" 

"The first round last night was six hours... I think she would have cried by now." 

"Okay, so, you want to go grab a shower and I'll get the washer loaded, and then we can play spa-day, or did you-" Alfie was cut off as Claire pulled him up from the couch by one arm, tugging him toward the stairs, "Oh... Okay, two birds, one stone, huh? That does sound fun." 

* * *

Ivan ducked into the hotel bathroom to get away from the noise, and constant presence of the other musicians and crew, and started the app on his phone.

He had his fingers crossed that Julie would be in a good mood, she hadn't said much, and he hadn't been able to have a conversation with her yet. 

Susie's joyful screams and some sort of chanting from Cyndi came through the moment the video chat connected, lightening his mood immediately. He knew, at the same time he'd be going on, Julie would be dealing with bath times, bedtime, and stories, but a quick moment to connect with his family at home would make his side of things far less tedious. 

Julie's face held steady in the screen for a brief second before she was mobbed by two rambunctious little girls, and the regular shaking began. It didn't make him feel dizzy anymore, he'd become so used to it. He didn't even realize he'd been smiling until Julie smiled at him, "There's Daddy, say hi, girls." 

"Hi!!!" Susie drew the word out as footsteps ran further away from Julie's phone. 

"Whoa, where'd Cyndi go?" Ivan asked. 

"She's getting something from the fridge." Julie replied. 

"You look beautiful, Julie." Ivan said quickly, correctly assuming Cyndi would be shoving something up far too close to the camera a few seconds later. He caught a quick glimpse of a smile on her face before the screen went white with a sheet of paper, then dark, then Julie pulled the paper further back so it was visible. 

"Daddy, look! I got a E! I counted to one hundred and got all my sight-words right!" Cyndi explained, even though he couldn't make out what was printed on the paper. 

"Wow! I couldn't do that until freshman year!" Ivan answered her, fibbing to make Julie laugh, "That's great, Cyndi. You're very smart, honey, that's big stuff for first grade." 

"I read my library book to Susie yesterday." 

"I wanted to read it again!" Susie whined to Cyndi. 

"I was busy!" Cyndi insisted. 

Ivan's heart was of two minds, happy to hear them, and pained to still be away. Julie settled them once more, and Susie talked about coloring a picture and seeing a bird outside before the girls grew bored and found something else to do. 

"So..." Ivan started, the conversation hanging over them both like a dark rain cloud threatening to pour. 

"How much detail do you really have to give, if somebody asks? I mean, just to get the message across?" Julie asked. 

"I could keep my mouth shut. But even then, there's public records." Ivan shrugged, "I just worry what kind of life that's gonna be for them." 

Julie looked conflicted, "Ivan, you-... When you started doing stuff outside the studio, we both knew what the end goal was. There's no way this could stay secret... If somebody asks, and you think you can get some visibility, use it, just... On the radio this morning, they made you sound like a skeez bag." 

Ivan nodded, "It's not like that." 

"I know." 

"Really, Julie, her mom is pissed at her, might kill her next tour, pissed, and she's glad I was there. There's a couple inside rumors nobody's gonna hear that I was trying to get noticed, and it's a publicity stunt, but, there's a couple requests for sound bytes after the show tonight, and the string-pullers are putting together a statement... If I say I have a couple kids at home, I'm gonna kill a couple of the worst rumors right there, I just don't know how much I should say about the drugs." 

Julie gave him a sympathetic look, "Say that you've seen the damage drugs can do on a young person's life? That's true, without mentioning your record, and then if someone digs out your record, it would all line up." 

"That's a really good idea, baby. I wish I was there, I could just talk to you all day." Ivan said softly, "God knows it would make this so much easier." 

Julie smiled softly, "Well, look at it this way, one more week, then you'll be home for a while, then either you'll sink into oblivion, and go back to the behind the scenes stuff, and nobody has to know anything, or you'll make it big." 

Ivan nodded, too tired to try for even a weak laugh, "Lila's pissed... Said I ruined her tough image... Her mom told her to tweet me a thank-you to get the heat off me. I wouldn't hold my breath, though." 

"But you think you did the right thing. Right?" 

"Yeah." 

"That's what matters. I mean, what could have happened if you just figured it was none of your business and walked away?" 

* * *

Cas drove carefully, still exhausted beyond belief. He'd woken up with the feeling that he was carrying the weight of the world, only far more literally than he would have liked.

There was some sort of argument between Ben and Xander, not unusual, exactly, but nothing really worth a fight, and he hadn't been able to shut it down. 

His lungs didn't seem to want to work properly, either. Possibly allergies, he supposed. It was only a very mild, dry cough, and he wasn't going to let it slow him down, not while there was work to be done. Not if it killed him. Something crossed his mind that it very well could. 

He heard a familiar name and turned the radio a bit louder. 

_"Yeah, well, three days ago, I don't know, we all thought this guy was some kind of creep, dragging Lila around like that, I mean, she's got people who's job it is to keep her safe, it's not his business."_

_"Right, no, his job is to play well so she sounds good, and stay in the background so we get a good show."_

_"Yeah, but the following night, they got a hold of this guy for a short interview, and listen, here's what he said."_

The radio show host played a clip, and Cas could tell right away it was certainly Ivan, as he'd heard from Ben, explaining his side of what had happened. _"I have a couple of kids at home, I'm a father, and I've seen firsthand how easily lives can go down the drain. I wouldn't have wanted my own kid in that room, and I didn't think she was safe there. I didn't see her mother anywhere, her mom is usually on the bus, so I just, y'know, insisted. If I'd had the time to think it through, maybe it would have looked a lot less crazy, but I just didn't want to see anybody get hurt."_

Cas considered the conversation he'd had with Ivan several years ago, when Ivan, still conflicted about the idea of a commitment so large, had asked him some very hard questions about becoming a father, especially concerning becoming a father to a child that already existed. 

They'd discussed what felt like every reason to hold on or walk away, and every time, Ivan had shot down any possibility that the life of a family man wouldn't suit him. It had felt very clear to Cas, seeing Ivan interact with Cyndi at the very beginning, not long after their conversation, and the occasional times he'd seen their small family since then, he felt that he'd given the young man the best possible advice. 

He wondered for a moment how Julie was doing, hearing her husband's name being dragged through the mud, only to be partially, and half-heartedly redeemed later. He wondered if he'd have time to go to the diner at lunch, or if she was even working today. The place had done well since she'd become the regular daytime manager. 

Cas pulled into his reserved parking space as the radio show hosts continued to waver between criticizing Ivan and relenting that his actions seemed to be protective. Something was said of a Tweet from the young singer's mother, calling Ivan a 'good guy,' but Cas didn't wait to hear the rest. 

Heading inside, collecting the occasional high-five from a student on the way to class, something Ben, Xander, and Jack had started, which had carried on after they'd started high school, he made his way to his office, and sat down at his desk, finding himself already fairly tired. 

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: Aw, yeah, it's coming along. Starting to really get involved, and more than just a recap of the missing 5ish years...
> 
> WARNING: This chapter is mostly about a minor medical emergency, however! There is discussion about a past suicide/death of a parent. 
> 
> This chapter does not cover the Major Character Death this story is flagged for. That will be much nearer the ending. Also, as I seem to be worrying some folks concerning the MCD, even though it is far in the future, if you're worried it's going to cause you serious issues, feel free to contact me privately, so I can pass you a subdued spoiler so you can decide for yourself if you should continue. @FythyrWisp on Twitter, and tumblr, though I rarely check my tumblr.
> 
> The outlines for this story are getting good, I think we're in for one more wild ride. Also, a few more deleted scene ideas have arisen, but if there was anything implied in one of the main stories you'd be interested in background of, please speak up, there might be more there than I realized.
> 
> Thanks for reading! FW)

* * *

"What happened to your face, Stansfield?"

The question came from a teammate standing nearby on the field. Xander hated this guy, but the coach had a habit of letting things slide with this particular student, and had made it clear he would do nothing unless it came to blows. 

"One of your daddies got pissed 'cause you wouldn't put out?" the other boy sneered. 

"Nah, just your mom getting a little too rough." Xander answered, "But you know how she gets when she's only had, like, seven rounds." 

A few of the other players had a good chuckle, and the bully backed down, but another boy came close and asked him quietly, "Hey, no joke, did one of your dads do that?" 

"No. Some customer at my dad's shop. But my folks are pressing charges, so maybe I'll get some cash out of it." Xander replied. 

The other player shook his head, "That sucks, but, hey, helps pay for college, right?" 

"I don't know. I might not go." 

"Dude, everybody goes." 

"Yeah, I mean, I'm gonna try, but, high school's been hard enough." Xander answered, "And anyway, if I wind up with anything less than a full ride, my brother-in-law said he'd fix something with his dad's company to get me a grant. Ben, too. So it's not like I need the money." 

The practice had been hard, but mainly uneventful, and as expected, he found Cas' white Ford sitting in the parking lot when he was ready to leave. The driver's side was toward him as he approached it, and he could see Cas sitting at what seemed like a funny angle, and apparently reading something on his phone. 

Cas looked up, and catching sight of Xander, opened the car door moving slowly, his phone in his right hand, keys in the left. 

"Pops? You okay?" Xander asked, noting a rather gray color to Cas' face. 

"You're driving." Cas said, attempting to pass Xander the keys. The keys slipped from his hand and landed on the pavement, as Cas flexed his hand in tired confusion. 

Xander scooped them up quickly, and moved to set his gear in the back seat, "Um, maybe we should call Dad?" 

"No, he'd just tell us to go to the emergency room." 

"Why?" 

Cas shook his head, starting for the passenger side, "Nothing I don't already know, but we'll go to be on the safe side." 

* * *

Randy picked up the desk phone, continuing to look for the number for the insurance company he needed to get back to, "Singer Automotive, this is Randy, how can I help you?"

"Hi, Randy," a woman's slow and measured voice came back, "I need to speak with Dean Winchester. His son says his phone is broken, and it's a family emergency." 

"Um, yeah, sure. Everybody okay?" 

"Sorry, I can't answer that. Just tell him it's Meg, and he'll get on the phone right away." she answered. 

Randy went straight to the garage, "Hey, Dean?" 

"Yeah?" Dean called from beneath a large pickup in the third bay. 

"You got some lady named Meg on the phone." 

Randy waited patiently as Dean hurried across the garage, snatching the phone, and answering as he hurried into his office to escape the noise of the shop. 

"Meg?" Dean asked, "What's going on?" 

"Well," Meg said carefully, "If I'm calling you, I'm sure you've already figured out why. Now the details, I've got a high school linebacker in the waiting room in tears and a principal with a hell of a lot of chest pain going through the fast version of intake, if you know what I mean, so, you need to get your ass down here." 

"Did you call Charlie?" Dean asked, leaving the office, strolling quickly through the garage, grabbing Alfie's shoulder to get his attention, and pointing through the open bay door toward the small house further off. Alfie gave him a rather confused look. 

"I can't, you know that. But you can do that later. We might need next-of-kin on hand, though, it looks mild, but we've been wrong before. Wouldn't hurt to have his daughter close by, just in case." 

"Yeah, okay. We'll be there soon." Dean said, tossing the phone across the second bay to Randy. He turned back to Alfie, "C'mon, I gotta borrow Claire, so you need to take over with the kid." 

"Um, she's not gonna like that. What's going on?" Alfie asked. 

"Cas is in the hospital." 

"Oh." Alfie squeaked slightly. "Yeah, okay." 

"Don't tell her, though, I need her to focus, I probably shouldn't drive right now, I'll tell her when we get there." Dean said quickly, marching toward the house. 

Alfie nodded, and hurried inside ahead of him, calling for Claire, and meeting her in the kitchen. He took Melody from her, "Okay, um, Dean needs a ride to the hospital, so, grab your stuff." 

"Wait, what? You can't drive him?" Claire asked, confused. She turned around to find Dean, seemingly undamaged, in the small hallway between the kitchen and the stairs, "Who's hurt?" 

"Claire," Alfie said with a firmness Dean was surprised to hear, "It's an emergency, please just go. He'll fill you in on the way." 

After a second to process, Claire quickly went to the hallway, stepping into a pair of shoes and grabbing her purse. It wasn't until they were outside again that she realized how shaken Dean looked. 

Approaching the Chevelle, she asked over the roof of the car, just before getting in, "Are you gonna tell me anything before we get there?" 

"It's, um, probably fine... Just, uh, can't be too careful about this stuff, yknow." 

Claire was quiet as she pulled out onto the highway, long enough that Dean was startled out of his worried thoughts as he stared out the window when she spoke again. 

"It's my dad, right? ...Or you would have said it was one of the boys and had Alfie drive you." Claire said in a hushed tone, "You need me there because he needs blood?" 

"Calm down, okay? This, um, it's not as bad as it could be, just being on the safe side. And anyway, Xander is there with him, and he's gonna be needing a ride home so we have the Ford there to get home if he can leave tonight." 

Claire shook her head, "If it wasn't major, you'd tell me what was happening." 

Dean didn't answer, instead turning on the radio. 

"So, what is it?" Claire asked, frustrated by his silence, "You didn't drag me away from my child over a stubbed toe, what happened? Car accident? A bombing? Come on, I'm starting to freak out." 

"He's sick." 

"How sick?" 

"We're gonna find out." 

Claire wanted to argue, dig for information, but instead she went silent. Several tense minutes later, they pulled into a parking space at the hospital, and Dean turned to Claire to explain, surprised she hadn't opened the door. 

"What's wrong? Because if he's sick, I can't be bringing it home." 

"He came in with chest pain. Xander brought him in, that's a whole hell of a lot better than somebody finding him on his office floor, okay? If they got him in this fast, his age, his health, history of smoking, I'd stake everything I've got on it that he's had a heart attack and it's a really small one. But since he came in with Xander, that means he knew what was happening, and he's gonna have the least possible amount of damage... Now, you okay to go in there, or you need a minute?" 

"No, let's go." 

* * *

Alfie carefully arranged the baby sling to carry Melody snugly against his ribs, and headed for the shop. He'd left an oil change half done, and wanted to be sure it was finished.

Lucas gave him a rather curious look as he entered through the bays, but said nothing. 

"Hey," Randy spoke up, coming in from the office, "Dean took off out of here pretty fast, what happened?" 

"Cas is in the hospital, he needed someone to drive him, so he came and got Claire." Alfie replied, "And those two have a kind of rare blood type, so, she can donate to him if he needs it, he's done that for her." 

Randy nodded, then pointed to the sling, "You really want to have her in here, breathing fumes and shit?" 

"Like she wasn't exposed to it plenty when Claire was working in here, nine months pregnant?" Alfie asked sardonically, "Let's face it, she's gonna be in here rebuilding an engine as soon as she can walk." 

"Nah, maybe she'll take after you," Lucas piped up, "Create weird-ass looking paintings with no paint, and get her face in the newspaper just for showing up." 

"Yeah, but I'm still out here hanging with you gearheads, hell, I married one." Alfie said, leaning under the hood awkwardly to tighten the cap he'd had half on when Dean had pulled him away, trying not to bump Melody against anything. He proceeded to pull the air filter out, only to find it was still in good condition. 

"Hey, do you even notice it when Dean pays you? Or is that just like a drop in the bucket for you?" Lucas asked in a snotty tone. Of course, after years of teasing and ribbing, Alfie took it in stride, only shaking his head, and closing up the car. 

* * *

Cas looked down over the oxygen tube to where Meg's gloved hands were very carefully removing a piece of jewelry from his chest.

"I'll pass this off to Dean when he gets here, wedding rings, too." Meg said calmly, "What time did your symptoms start?" 

"They asked me that." 

"Well, now I'm asking." 

"I've felt awful all day. And this cough wouldn't stop, I thought it was allergies." Cas replied. 

Meg nodded, "Okay, so, awful like a cold, or awful like the flu?" 

"Worse?" Cas suggested. 

"Had a guy in here a couple of months ago, said he felt like the grim reaper had been following him around for a week. Sometimes they just know. Of course, if there's any good side to this, surviving the first one is the hardest, and it's looks like you'll be in the clear after this PCI." 

There was a tap at the door just before it slowly opened, and Dean came in quickly, stress showing painfully clear on his face, "Cas... Well, I guess if you're not sitting here with your ribs wide open, can't be too bad, right?" 

"They said it was mild." Cas replied weakly. 

Dean turned to Meg, "Is he gonna need a stent?" 

"Probably not. It doesn't look too bad, they're going to run a catheter up there from his leg, do a little angioplasty, but this late in the day, it's probably best if stays the night." she answered, passing him Cas' nipple ring and both rings from his left hand, "Any more metal I need to worry about? I can step out for a moment, if it's a problem." 

"No, that's all of it." Cas answered. 

"Okay." Meg said, tugging the gown up his shoulder, and checking the clock, "You still have a few minutes while the sedative kicks in, before we can get you in for this. Should I send the kids in?" 

Dean shrugged, "I still need to call Ben." 

"Already done." Claire's voice came from behind him, "He said he can leave work early, but he doesn't want to clog up the waiting room over nothing, and call back if you know for sure you want him here... And Charlie says she'll be here in half an hour." 

"Claire, how old's the baby?" Meg asked. 

"Three months. Why?" 

"Come out in the hall with me for a second, then you can bring Xander in here." Meg answered, leading the way to the door. Once in the hallway, she turned back to Claire, "Still nursing?" 

"Yeah." 

"Can she take a bottle?" 

"Yeah, I have a stock in the freezer at home, why?" 

"Donating blood can make your supply drop for a while, and it's too risky before six weeks post, but it sounds like you're fine. If you're willing, and it's fine if you're not-" 

"If he needs it, take it." Claire cut her off. 

"That's not likely, but you never know. Just to be on the safe side, though, after all the hell we went through with you, it would be a good idea for you to stick around until the procedure's done, and we're sure he's not losing any. There's a small risk of puncture any time we go in anywhere." 

Claire nodded, "Yeah, okay, I'll stick around... So, bring Xander in?" 

"If it'll calm him down. I have better things to do than sit around holding his hand." 

Claire scoffed, "I'll handle that part. You know, you're a lot nicer when you're not at work." 

"You try doing what I do, and you won't be very nice about it, either." Meg replied. 

* * *

Ben waited until he was between clients to approach the veterinarian, ducking into the exam room as he usually did to help clean it, "Hey, Doc?"

"Yeah?" Dr Parker asked, spraying a cleaning fluid on the stainless steel exam table. 

"Um, listen, I might need to leave, my Pops in the hospital, he had a mild heart attack." 

Dr Parker nodded, "Of course. Is that your dad, or your grandfather?" 

"It's one of my dads." Ben replied. 

"One of? ...Oh. Right. Well, yes, of course, family is family, just as long as you're sure you're okay to drive." Dr Parker said, wiping the table quickly, "You know, I know a few families like that who also, uh, 'keep the faith,' if praying would be okay?" 

"Yeah. Cas wouldn't turn that down." Ben replied with a nod, "And I think I'll walk, it's only a few blocks away." 

"Are you sure?" 

"Yeah, it'll be fine." Ben answered. 

"Well, let's hope you're right, and let's hope the same for your dad." Dr Parker said sincerely, "Don't feel like you need to come in tomorrow, either, if you're needed at home." 

* * *

Alfie looked up to see a familiar car pulling up to the house, and set aside the ratchet he was holding, leaving the shop as Margaret emerged, heading for the front steps. He made his way closer, and soon she'd turned around, spotting him.

"Oh my god, are you taking her in the shop?" Margaret asked in a scolding tone. 

"She likes it in there, all the noise is familiar." Alfie replied with a grin. 

Margaret shook her head, "Okay, well, I guess that's your business. Kevin asked me to check on you." 

Alfie accepted a quick hug from her while she gave a quick peek into the sling to get a look at Melody sleeping, "We're good. Claire's going to hang out in case they need blood, and he should be okay to come home tomorrow morning." 

"What about Ben and Xander?" 

"They're seventeen, I think they can handle one night, if Dea- Well, yeah, I guess Dean would stay there." Alfie corrected himself, "Anyway, yeah, I'm supposed to thaw some milk, Claire's gonna be home late, and we'll keep an ear open for the guys." 

Margaret nodded, "Is there anything else that needs done?" 

"I don't know," Alfie answered with a shrug, heading for the front door, "I mean, what usually needs done when somebody has a heart attack? It's not like he's going to be stuck in a hospital bed, there's no, y'know, arrangements to make, just kind of a sit-on-your-hands situation. Claire doesn't want Melody at the hospital getting exposed to who knows what, so I'm hanging out here, and at the end of the day, I'll close down the shop. Everybody's doing what they're supposed to be doing, and there's really nothing left to do." 

* * *

Late into the night, one of the nurses had made it very clear that Claire was not going to be needed, and suggested she head home to her baby. Claire, fairly uncomfortable from being off of Melody's schedule, had carefully hugged Cas and Dean, and took Xander and Ben back to Ben's car.

Kevin had stopped by earlier, bringing them all some take-out, everyone who wasn't on a rather sudden and strict diet, anyway, and had left again, before Mike had the opportunity to get bored and start in on his usual constant chatter. 

Dean sat on the edge of the chair next to the bed, holding Cas' hand, "What do you think it was?" 

Cas shrugged, "Well, we know what it wasn't. I don't eat junk food regularly, not anymore, I haven't smoked in years, and I haven't done coke since Claire was born, so-" 

He stopped when he realized Dean was looking at him with wide eyes. 

"What?" 

"Seriously? ...You could've died today, and you're gonna take this time to joke like Claire does?" 

Cas tilted his head slightly. 

"You're not joking." Dean assumed, "You actually- okay. Well, a quarter-century in the past, I'm pretty sure wouldn't cause it now... Maybe it's stress. You've been, uh, kind of talking about the school in your sleep a lot lately, saying stuff like it's going downhill, you're failing the kids, no, don't shake your head, I know you. I know how you are about your students." 

"I do what I can to leave work at work." 

"Yeah, but it follows you home, honey. And then it runs through your brain all night when you should be resting." 

Cas gave something of an annoyed groan, and lay his head back on the pillow. 

"What?" 

"I just realized, as insufferable as you've been about getting my cholesterol down, you're going to be even worse." 

* * *

After a rather long evening Kevin hadn't had the heart to firmly enforce bedtime, especially not on a Friday. He'd tried to watch some television and let Mike wear himself out, but somehow this had turned into Mike trying to move the coffee table by himself, and sucking Kevin into playtime, resulting in a block-city complete with a fully functioning toy railroad covering the living room floor.

They'd been watching the train circle the wooden metroplex from the couch, both of them tired from a long day, when Mike had fallen asleep and the door finally opened. 

Kevin shifted out from under his son and got up, turning the toy train off, switching the channel to a cartoon station, and turning off the television. 

"Damn." Margaret said softly, looking at the complex setup in the room. 

"I was gonna say the same about your ass." Kevin whispered loudly, making her smile, "How'd it go today?" 

"The cosmetics company is going to give us a decent range of stuff, but only as a one-time deal. Even recognizing how difficult it is for some of these women to look at themselves in the mirror, they have job interviews, they've got scars or bruises they want to hide to feel like themselves, and even though the Alfords have a bunch of stock in the place, that's it. A one-time dump off of a few gallons of concealer, and they still want to be able to publicly pat themselves on the back and then walk away." 

"Damn... And here I thought we were having a good week, I hadn't had a single walk-in." Kevin said, pulling her close. 

"You are, I'm more in the thick of it... And I got a call today, from the state. My dad's getting out in three months." Margaret pressed her forehead to Kevin's chest and let her eyes close. 

Kevin stroked her back softly, and shifted her brown curls to the side, "It'll be okay." 

Margaret shook her head, "You still have nightmares, don't try to tell me it's okay." 

"I had a gun in my face, that's not just gonna go away, but I'm sure he learned his lesson. I mean, your mom moved to your sister's house, and hasn't been back, he's probably not even going to come back to town, not if he's smart. Not with it making the news like it did." 

Margaret wound her arms around his waist tightly,giving herself a moment just to feel him breathe, "Alfie's okay, just worried, didn't need any help... In fact he was walking around with her in a carrier, doing stuff out in the shop when I got there. Did you see Cas?" 

"I saw Dean, and he didn't seem freaked out." Kevin answered, "It was mild, though, so, not a huge thing." 

"Since when is a heart attack not a huge thing?" 

Kevin shrugged, "He's related to Claire, she had to get that badass stuff from somewhere. He'll be fine." 

* * *

Ben pulled into the driveway as the lights of the Chevelle flashed across the road, indicating Claire's arrival at her own home.

"You okay, man?" Ben asked. 

Xander rubbed at his face, "At least I can get out of practice tomorrow, right?" 

Ben nodded, opening the door to climb out, "Yeah, we should probably stick around the house and help out... But, I meant, you were there, are you, um... Did you want to talk about it, or whatever? ...I mean, after your mom, this, uh-..." 

Xander shook his head, slamming the car door a bit harder than he'd meant to. It was still a sore subject. 

"Just, I know if I had to drive somebody to the hospital, I'd be freaking out." Ben said softly, heading for the door, "I guess he knew what was going on, though, huh? Dad's always talking about medical crap." 

Xander followed him up the steps, waiting patiently as Ben got the door unlocked, and they both went inside, turning on lights as they went, "He said he felt like his chest was being crushed in, and his arm hurt... He fell while he was trying to get in on the other side of the car, I had to pick him up off the ground." 

"And he drove to the high school like that?" Ben asked. 

"Yeah... I mean, I'm not some little kid, if he'd gone to the hospital instead, I could have gotten a ride home. Instead he was worried about coming to get me. It was stupid. He could've-... It was really stupid." 

"Maybe he didn't know." 

"Bullshit." Xander answered. 

Ben shrugged, "I don't know, denial?" 

Xander sat down heavily on the couch, staring off into space as Ben went to the kitchen for a drink. He was still staring blankly when Ben returned a few moments later. 

"Hey... I'm gonna go handle the dogs. You turning in?" 

Xander only shrugged. 

"Don't do that, man... It's not like he was trying to... I know it's hard, and it sucks, but, none of it is your fault." 

At Xander's silence, Ben turned around, headed for the back yard and the large kennel with Nick at his heels, but stopped when Xander spoke again. 

"If she would have just called me, I would have told her not to." he whispered. 

"I know." Ben replied, "Anybody would have done that. But she was mentally ill. She needed more help than she was getting, and-... You know, she was really nice, though. And she made sure the adoption stuff cleared, she was looking out for you." 

"I can't do it again." Xander said quietly, "And, I don't know, I'm just kind of pissed at him for taking the chance, okay?" 

Ben nodded, "Yeah, okay... But, um, again, he didn't do this on purpose. And she didn't, either, really, she was sick, too, just, y'know, in her head." 

Xander nodded in an emotionless manner, and reached for the remote. 

Soon, Ben was in the back yard, opening up the kennel, and pitching tennis balls across the yard in the dim light from the back porch, considering the day a little over a year ago that he'd come home to find Xander sobbing uncontrollably in Cas' arms. 

Xander's mother had had a very difficult life, most of the major events having been quite painful, and once the open adoption had been finalized, she'd written a will, a long letter to her only child, and then taken her own life. 

It had been a rough summer, having to begin with a funeral, and despite being surrounded by love and support, Xander's depression had taken a turn for the worse. Dean had given each of the boys a car he'd deemed repairable a few weeks before school ended, assuming they'd have them running in time to be able to use them once they'd gotten their driver's licenses. Xander, during a particularly bad day, had given up on a harder repair in a rather violent fashion, and Dean, with Claire's help, had had to remove him from the shop entirely. Cas had taken over at that point, and over several weeks, they'd tried several different hobbies, trying to find something Xander would be good at that would help him relax, and while Xander had been fairly good at a few things, nothing had kept his interest. Overall, though, the activities had kept him busy long enough that with his medications adjusted, he'd leveled out. 

Ben knew what Xander meant, that he couldn't do it again. Having lost his own mother to cancer at an early age, the idea of losing another parent tore at him, but he also knew Xander's father had walked out, leaving Xander and his mother on their own for years, likely intensifying the pain. 

During the summer, Ben had had a hard time seeing his adoptive brother struggling with so much, and while he felt for the other boy, he had begun to avoid him, working on the Mustang as an excuse to escape his company. He excused his avoidance by telling himself that Xander needed space, and he had nothing left to give, but deep down, he still felt guilty, and had happily lent Xander his car regularly. 

The puppies were beginning to wear out, having gotten exercise and interaction, and having hosed out the paved floor of the kennel, and handled the food and water that had spilled, he rounded the small dogs up and took Nick back inside, the puppies following after her. 

One of the puppies climbed onto Xander's lap before Ben had even gotten into the living room, where Nick waited at the foot of the stairs with a limp wag. 

Ben went to the stairs and picked Nick up carefully, "I'm beat, but wake me up if you start freaking out, okay?" 

"Yeah, okay." Xander replied as Ben went up the stairs. 

Ben set Nick down on the second floor as he went up, stealthily slipping into Cas and Dean's room, unnoticed by Xander. On the top shelf inside the closet sat the safe with the only firearm in the house. He had it open in a moment, and quietly removed the magazine and the single bullet in the chamber, sealing the door again on the unloaded pistol, taking the ammunition with him. He was certain, given the circumstances, and the odd tone in Xander's voice, that his parents would understand. 

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: OMG THIS IS TAKING ME FOREVER!!
> 
> Okay, so, new chapter! Let's do this! Still building things up! Not hugely exciting, somebody has a personal secret revealed in a manner that was as loving and respectful as a concerned set of parents can manage['omg, you're ruining my life!' - teenager]
> 
> Next chapter is going to have some tense and concerning moments.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Sorry, my life is a little too crazy right now to post at my usual speed. Also, I may have been bingewatching Dirk Gently, GOT, TWD, FTWD, and doing a SPN re-watch, but I'm sure that couldn't be slowing me down, right?... No, it absolutely is. Physical therapy, too. Okay, back to the grindstone, not because you're desperate for a fix, but because the story is driving me to write! Love you all! FW)

* * *

Gabe had had a rather average day, and stopping off in the supermarket, he hadn't expected to run into a familiar face from days gone by. He'd heard things, and some things had made the news two or three decades ago, but he tried to keep a neutral demeanor, especially once he'd been recognized.

"Gabriel! How's it going?" the unpleasant and weathered looking man asked, approaching him with a greeting. 

Gabe nodded, "Man, it has been a while, huh? Didn't see you at the high school reunions." 

"What's the point? In this town, nothing changes." 

Gabe shrugged, "Well, a little bit here and there, but I get what you mean. So... Marc... They let you out, or should I be calling somebody? Huh?" 

Marc chuckled, "Nah, I've been out for a few years, traveling a bit, but then I heard this, uh, pesky little rumor, something I wanted to get to the bottom of, so I figured I'd just swing through town and see if there was any truth to it." 

"Oh, yeah? Something juicy?" Gabe asked. 

"Yeah, maybe. I still gotta find out for myself, though." 

"You don't trust me?" Gabe asked with a laugh, "Shocker." 

"Well, I'll be in town a few more days, maybe I'll let you know then. In the meantime, is Cas Novak still living around here?" 

"Oh, sure, yeah. Out on the highway east of town, there's a little car shop out there called Singer, his husband runs the place. His kid works there, too, and Cas lives a little further down the same road." Gabe answered, "What's Cas got to do with this?" 

Marc waved his hand in a dismissive gesture, "Just everything. But if he can't tell me, he'll be able to put me in contact with somebody who'll know for sure." 

Gabe nodded, "Okay, well, uh, I guess I'll see you around, Marc." 

"Yeah, it was good to see you, man. We should go hit the bar for old time's sake." 

Gabe shrugged, fishing for a lie, "Sorry, I, uh, I quit drinking. Keeps the wife happy." 

Marc chuckled, "Whipped, huh? Oh well." 

* * *

"Are you even going to go check that things are running smoothly?" Cas asked, "With Claire out most days, you should be there."

Dean shook his head from where he sat on the bed between Cas' legs, changing the bandage, "No, I'm staying right here with you." 

"It's been all weekend, Dean. I can manage just fine." 

"Yeah, but why risk it?" 

"What risk? I don't need a babysitter." 

Dean shook his head once more, collecting the packaging from the bandage supplies, and climbing carefully off the bed, "Sickness and health, babe. I'm not going anywhere." 

"Fine. Then if I can't get away from you, I'm at least getting out of the house." Cas answered, getting up from the bed carefully, still feeling rather weak. 

"You think so, huh?" Dean asked. 

"Yes, I'm going to go sit on a couch and hold a baby, nothing strenuous, and it should top off my will to live." 

Dean nodded, "Good idea. I'll call Claire and see if she'll come over." 

"I need to get out of the house." Cas argued. 

"So sit on the porch swing." Dean answered, picking up his phone from the nightstand. 

Cas rolled his eyes and made for the dresser, "You have to let up sometime, either cooperate, or I'm going all the way to the school to check on things there." 

"Yeah, that's not happening." Dean answered, wrapping his arms around Cas' waist and backing toward the bed. 

Frustrated, but still too weak to stop him, Cas soon found himself gently displaced onto the bed with a heavy arm over his stomach and gentle set of lips on the side of his neck. 

"I'll slip out while you're asleep." Cas said quietly. 

"I'll tie you to the bed." 

"... Would it be worth my time to let you?" Cas asked, his voice softening into a slight purr that normally made Dean weak. 

"Oh, don't start that. You're not supposed to be exerting yourself." Dean objected. 

Cas was quiet as Dean held him close before Dean finally moved back a bit to give him a questioning look. Cas met his eyes, "Are you doing this to be annoying, or because you genuinely can't stop?" 

Dean pressed the corner of his mouth to Cas' shoulder, "Sorry, it's-" 

"So you can't." Cas said quietly, "All right, call her, but at least let me put my pants on." 

* * *

"Hey, Caitlin!" Ben said happily, if somewhat quietly as he approached the table, "I'm really sorry about rescheduling, but-"

"You already apologized." she cut him off, "And besides, obviously if you were lying to get out of it, you would've just canceled altogether." 

Ben nodded as he sat, "Uh, yeah, I guess that's true... So, I haven't seen you at school, how long ago did you move?" 

She chuckled and ducked her head, "Over the summer, actually. I wanted to beat the rush, but I didn't realize that I wouldn't have to beat a crowd hustling to get their dorm rooms set up..." 

"You're not in high school." Ben deduced, "Um... you know I am, right?" 

"I guessed, yeah. But, I'm not allowed to date college guys, so that's okay." 

"Not allowed? So your folks are pretty strict, and still tell you what to do?" Ben asked. 

"I graduated early." Caitlin replied with a shy smile. 

"Oh, so, like, you skipped a grade?" Ben asked. 

Caitlin nodded, "Two, actually. I know, I'm a giant nerd, it's just, I really like school, which sucks, because now I feel like I'm running out of it... I might need another degree after this, just for fun." 

"Yeah?" Ben asked with a chuckle, "What's the big thing you're going for that has you so stoked?" 

"Aerospace engineering." she replied softly. 

"Rocket science? Nice." 

She shrugged, "Well, explosions are a lot more fun when they're controlled." 

"Oh, yeah, absolutely. Um, y'know, I live way outside of town, if you ever want to blow stuff up, or test anything. I also have access to a whole junkyard and welding gear." 

Caitlin's eyes went wide for a moment, making Ben's heart flutter, "Are you serious?" 

"Yeah. Heck, my dad is always on my case to get out there and build something. Of course, he's more inclined toward things that stay on the ground." 

An odd look crossed her face, "Wait... You live outside of town, and hang around a junkyard, but you work at a vet clinic? You're not, like, in some cult, waiting for the zombie apocalypse, are you?" 

"I'm not. My sister might be." Ben replied a grin, "But, um, no, my dad's a mechanic, and my other dad is the principal at one of the middle schools." 

"Other dad?" 

"Yeah." Ben answered with a calm nod, giving her a moment. 

"That's... rare." 

"Not at my house." Ben answered quickly, making her smile. 

"I guess not." 

* * *

The long dark-colored bus swung into the large empty parking lot, not shutting off its engine, but coming to a stop and opening the doors.

Ivan, looking much less the part of his required stage persona but still dressed in all black with a few more accessories than he was comfortable with, climbed off the bus, toting a guitar in a rectangular hard plastic case. 

Julie finally relented, opening the back door of the car, letting the two bouncing girls out. Cyndi and Susie tore a path across the short distance to greet their father with happy squeals and tight hugs. 

"Oh my god, did you grow?" Ivan asked, trying to get them to let go of his neck long enough to get a look at their faces. His efforts unsuccessful, he held them tighter and stood up, "Yep, definitely got bigger." 

"Did you miss us?" Cyndi asked. 

"You know I did. But daddy has to work. Now I'm home, I'm all yours, I'm not working on anything for a week. Promise." Ivan replied. He quickly wrangled them back to the car, stopping to greet Julie properly before returning to the side of the bus to collect his things. 

The drive home was filled with a near constant chatter, overwhelming what Julie could make out of Ivan's voice, all of it coming from the girls in the back seat. It was no surprise though, how quickly they fell asleep that evening. 

* * *

"Are you serious?" Ben asked, looking at the truck. It wasn't old enough to be a classic, and it wasn't new enough to be in good shape.

"The frame is in great condition, barely needs any work, fix it up, sell it, cover the costs, and you keep what's left." Dean answered, "Or you keep it. Depends on what size animals you'll be working on eventually." 

"Yeah, but, it's a dually." 

"That would be really good if you were running out to ranches and farms. I mean, you can't carry much in the Mustang." Dean suggested. 

Ben shook his head, "Yeah, but it's also a gas-guzzler. We only have one planet." 

"Oh, right. So, you're gonna get an electric pickup?" Dean asked in a slightly mocking tone. 

"Yeah. Eventually." Ben answered, "Because by the time I'm dead, that's gonna be the only kind on the road." 

Dean couldn't count the times they'd managed to butt heads in the last several months. Ever since Ben's birthday, it seemed. He started back to the shop, "Fix it or don't, but don't get preachy at me, we've been over this. I've got a business to run, and I'll adapt at the same rate as my customers." 

Spotting a familiar car pulling into the parking area, he bypassed the building entirely, meeting Margaret at her car with a quick hug, "What's wrong with it?" 

She shook her head, "Nothing, the car is totally fine, but I was wondering if you could help me out with something else." 

"Yeah?" 

* * *

Cas had been leaning on the counter heavily when Dean arrived home, but straightened and motioned to the back door almost immediately as the boys bustled around the kitchen helping with dinner and getting some basic chores caught up. Dean followed him out onto the back porch, reaching for him immediately.

"Hey... What's going on? You look freaked out." 

Cas gave him a tired look, "I was troubleshooting the network today, trying to figure out why the wifi keeps dropping sporadically, and I think we need to have a serious discussion with Xander." 

Dean's face darkened immediately, "How bad is it? What did you find?" 

"Not what you'd think, and nothing illegal, I'm just worried there may be a medical issue that was missed." 

"Like what?" 

The door opened rather abruptly, and Ben stuck his head out, "Pops, timer's going off." 

"Take it out of the oven, I'll be there in a minute, Ben." Cas replied, turning back to Dean, "Later, though, this is going to be a very delicate subject. For Xander's privacy, we need to leave Ben out of it." 

"They tell each other everything, whatever it is, Ben probably already knows." 

"No, Ben tells Jack everything, Xander unloads on Ben but only when he's stressed so it's usually vague, and Jack is a loudmouth," Cas replied, "We just need to talk with him after dinner, preferably while Ben is walking the dogs around." 

Dean nodded and followed Cas back inside. 

Dinner had been somewhat tense as Dean turned over the possibilities in his mind. Sure if it were just porn, Cas wouldn't have batted an eye. Not where a seventeen-year-old boy was concerned. But his comments that it wouldn't be something expected, wasn't anything illegal, and was of a medical nature made him wonder what Cas might have found. 

Ben soon excused himself to care for the dogs, and Xander was on his feet a moment later to begin clearing the table. Dean took a close look at his face as Cas stopped him, and had him sit back down. Xander had been dealt a rough hand in life, something Dean could relate to, and while Dean and Cas both did what they could to support Xander, he knew their primary goal had to be to prepare him for life as an adult. He kicked himself for not getting Cas to go into more detail, but everything had been so rushed. 

"Xander, you know that we have an internet logging feature on the home network, right?" Cas started gently. 

Xander shrugged, but Dean caught a hint of concern in his eyes. "Uh, yeah?" 

"Well, I found a message board listed that I wasn't familiar with, and I was hoping you'd be willing to talk about it." 

Xander's movements became choppy with anxiety as a hint of red came to his cheeks, "What's to talk about? I mean, we don't really get into this kind of discussion, and it's my business, nobody else's." 

"It's been fairly obvious for some time that you didn't seem to have the same interest in dating that Ben does, but at the same time, Ben never had a serious brain injury. I'm just curious if you discussed it with your doctor." 

Xander's face went dark, "So, what are you trying to say? Ace isn't a thing? It's something that's wrong with me?" 

"That's not what I'm saying." Cas replied quickly. 

"Ace?" Dean asked quietly. 

"Asexual." Cas answered before turning back to Xander, "I'm not denying it exists, but it's possible that with everything else you've had to deal with, this could be part of it." 

Dean listened carefully as he took a moment to try to wrap his head around the word. 

"You know, out of everybody, I thought you'd be the least likely to say I was just broken. I really thought if I told you, you'd be like, 'Oh, Xander's ace, no big deal.' I didn't think you'd blame it on my fucked up head." Xander growled. 

"So, that's like, no interest at all, in anybody, right? Or at least, not to that point?" Dean asked quietly. 

Xander shrugged, "It varies, but, that's kind of the short version." 

"But it could be because of damage. It's affected you in other ways we didn't see coming, it could be medical." Dean mused, "Definitely worth talking it out with the doctors." 

"It's none of their business, either! It's just how I am, okay?" Xander protested. 

"Xander, you were going through puberty, if something got knocked out of whack, maybe it's not how you are. Kind of hard to know, with nothing to compare to." Dean answered. 

"Just because you'll screw anything with two legs doesn't mean everybody's like that!" Xander snapped, getting up and heading for the stairs. 

Cas reached for Dean's hand as footsteps echoed loudly to the second floor, leading to a door slamming. "Well... That went well." 

"Maybe you should've given me a little more detail... Now what? I mean, aside from telling his doctor?" Dean asked. 

Cas shrugged, "Well, if the doctor isn't accepting of the idea that he may be right, and this could have nothing to do with the accident, then we get him to a different doctor, of course. But he may need a reminder that we're only trying to rule it out, not fix him." 

"But... Not at all?... At all?" 

Cas shook his head, "The heart wants what it wants. And sometimes it doesn't." 

"But, like, no dating, close relationships, kids?" 

"No one said that. That's all completely possible." Cas replied. 

"How?" 

"The same way I slept with every woman I never had any interest in. Although I assume, as far as relationships are concerned, it would be easier for him to be with someone who's also ace, but not entirely necessary." 

Dean ran a hand over his face, "I don't want to see him end up alone." 

Cas gave his hand a squeeze, "I'd rather see him end up alone and happy than in a forced relationship that makes him miserable." 

Dean nodded, "Yeah, okay, you're right... So how do we talk him into another round of brain scans and yakking it out with the doctors?" 

* * *

Through two open doors, Alfie easily heard it as Melody started to fuss, and waited quietly to see if she would actually wake. Once it was clear that was her plan, he slipped out of bed and went to the crib as quietly as possible, closing the doors as much as he could without making any noise. Guilt weighed on him, knowing the stress it was already causing Claire with his trip quickly approaching.

One quick diaper change later, Melody didn't seem hungry as much as she was ready to be awake, and he quietly took her downstairs. It was early, but not too early. He'd had earlier mornings than this. 

He started a pot of coffee, and began to dig around in the fridge one-handed as he kept Melody up against his shoulder. 

"What do you think Mommy wants for breakfast?" he muttered quietly, "Hopefully she'll stay asleep for a while, and not freak out this time if she goes looking for you." 

Melody's eyes were wide, taking in the shapes and colors of the kitchen, quietly looking around and learning her environment as she chewed her fingers sloppily, soaking the sleeve of her pajamas. 

Second guessing himself, Alfie decided to wait for signs of consciousness before cooking, and went to the couch to wait on the coffee pot to finish brewing. 

Melody was pushing to stand again, babbling happily, all smiles. 

"Yeah, I agree. Sleep is overrated." Alfie yawned. 

She gave a hard bounce against his lap and he held her higher, bringing her back down a moment later. 

"You better knock that off, if you skip the crawling phase, Mommy's going to go nuts." 

Melody grabbed his face, trying to clench his skin in her hand. 

"Shit! Ow... Okay, so, don't say that word, but you need your nails cut again. You get big enough to stop eating your hands, and Uncle Kevin will give you a real manicure. Mommy would go with you, but she'd probably last ten seconds before it would get scraped off on a carburetor." 

Melody gave a big, gummy smile, complete with drool, and Alfie noticed a tiny fleck of white in a reddened area. 

"Is that...?" he gently put his thumb under her lip, easing it down to look at her bottom gums, pulling his hand away as she tried to get her mouth on him, "You cut a tooth, pumpkin! Nope, wait, no you didn't. Mommy missed it when you rolled over the first time, so, we're gonna let her find out. Don't tell her, okay? And I know you want to try it out, but, please, don't use it on her, she had a hard enough time getting started with the whole boob-thing, okay?" 

Melody gave a kick with one foot and bounced slightly, her bottom lip still dripping. 

"You go easy on her, I'll sneak you a carrot or something." 

The bedroom door opened upstairs, and Alfie shot a guilty look upward before quickly turning back to Melody, and putting a silencing finger to his lips. 

Seeing lights on downstairs, Claire came down, still a sleepy mess, and made her way to the couch, "Is she hungry?" 

"Nope, just awake." 

"Did you give her coffee?" 

"Only half a cup." Alfie replied with a smirk. 

Claire gave a grumpy mumble and sat on the couch, curling against his side, "No coffee for babies, she won't grow." 

"Sure she will. She's gonna be a basketball player." 

Melody made a loud noise and reached for her mother, grabbing a lock of hair. Claire carefully untangled the tiny fingers and took her from Alfie, "A basketball player? I thought she was going to be a supreme court justice?" 

"She can do both." 

"Last week you said she was going to become president of Mars." 

Alfie turned to face her a bit better, her messy hair, rumpled clothes, and dark, puffy circles, holding an unusually happy baby, his baby, and could have sworn he felt his heart swell, "It's not like any of that conflicts." 

Claire rubbed at her face a bit, "What time do we need to leave tomorrow?" 

His joy came crashing back down again quickly, as the subject they'd both been avoiding reared its ugly head. It wasn't that he wanted to be dropped off at the airport and run away from his life for the better part of a week and a half, have an awkward reunion with his so-called mother and pretend he hadn't been calling another woman 'mom' for the last ten years, but he felt bound by both honor and duty, and trapped by family obligation. Half of him wished desperately Claire would have just told him it was unacceptable. If she'd just given him an absolute no, made a crack about changing the locks, or said, flat-out, that Rachel had no business coming into their lives after such blatantly rude silence for the months leading up to the wedding, he would have agreed. If she had told him not to go to New York, or called him less of a man for going back on his promise, maybe he could've managed it, but she never would. Claire was so independent, it carried over. She didn't realize how badly he lacked her strength. He wasn't a leader, but her own personality kept her from seeing certain weaknesses in others. She couldn't make decisions for him, because she would never allow anyone to make them for her. 

"Um... if we leave at ten-thirty, we'll still have plenty of time." 

"You don't want to go." 

"Nope." 

Claire shrugged, "Oh, well... Maybe next time you can teach Naomi to act like you, dress like you, and she can impersonate you and handle things her way. She'd love that." 

Alfie chuckled at the suggestion, getting up from the couch, "Scrambled?" 

"Scrambled sounds perfect... I think I'm going to run to the store after breakfast, before work. Just to get my car on the road." Claire said, a smile coming to her face as Melody's good mood seemed to spread. 

* * *

Lucas looked up as the shop door swung open, and a middle-aged man stepped inside.

"Hi, how can I help you?" Lucas asked, reaching for the drawer where the intake clipboards were stored. 

"Well, I'm not here to get my Jeep fixed, this more of a social call." the man explained, "I'm an old friend of Cas Novak's, and a little birdy told me his kid lives over here, I wanted to come say hi." 

"Um, yeah, well, if you're looking for Cas-" Lucas started, turning to glance in the direction of Dean's office. 

"No. Uh, his kid. See, Cas isn't expecting me, and, well, you know how it is, friend of the family, and all." 

Lucas still felt fairly suspicious, but gave a nod, "Okay, well, um, 'Cas' kid' hasn't come in yet, so, I would guess it's a safe bet you'd get an answer if you went out back and knocked on the front door." 

The man nodded his thanks in a manner that struck Lucas as overplayed, "Well, thank you, sir. That is a big help. I'll just go and do that." 

"Anytime." Lucas answered, watching the man retreat back through the front door before shoving out of his chair and making a beeline for Dean's office. He threw the door open only to be met with a grumpy look. 

"What?" 

"Um... So, if somebody came around here looking for Claire, but didn't call her by name, just said Cas' kid, and I pointed that person out back, that would be a bad move, right?" Lucas yammered quietly. 

Dean carefully set down the papers he was holding, "Someone's looking for Claire?" 

"Uh, yeah." 

"Complete stranger?" 

"Yeah, never seen him before." 

"She spends most of her day home alone with a baby, and you just told this total stranger where she lives without checking with her first. Nice going, jackass." Dean said irately, standing up and making his way toward the bays, "We're putting a new policy in place, one about not giving out employee info, and Claire's gonna make you write it as soon as this is done." 

Lucas shook his head, ducking out of Dean's way, "Dean, I'm really sorry." 

"Save it." Dean replied, not slowing down. 

"You're gonna check on her, right?" Lucas called after him, "Can I go with you?" 

Lucas nearly ran into Dean as he stopped suddenly in the middle of the empty first bay, watching through the wide open door. 

"Don't have to. Her car's gone... Go hang out in the office, I can watch him from here." 

* * *


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: Nobody dies in this chapter!!!
> 
> Now that's out of the way, *TRIGGER WARNINGS* - Mention of past violence against a child, attempted rape, general 'this guy is yucky, and to be avoided, omg.' There is also a not-quite fight scene, somebody gets beaten up, but while knocked out, doesn't die. Also, discussion about murder and assassins.
> 
> So I guess, if you thought you were dangling from a cliff last time, now you're finding you're rolling down a slope of sharp rocks to the actual edge? Maybe...
> 
> Thanks for reading, I am really hopeful I'll make some major progress and get ahead of my posting schedule soon. You folks rock. FW)

* * *

Alfie assumed the knock at the door was one of the guys from the shop, or family, not that there was much difference between the two.

To say solicitors were rare in the junkyard was a terrific understatement, and Alfie was taken aback by the unknown man standing on his front porch. 

"Hi there, I'm Marcus Young, you can call me Marc," the man said fast, before Alfie could speak, "You Novak?" 

"Um, yes?" Alfie replied, omitting a few details on how he'd obtained the name. 

"Yeah, you look about the right age," Marc stared at Melody in Alfie's arms just a little too intensely as he seemed to sneak forward, "My goodness, what a pretty little lady... Is she yours?" 

"Yes... So, what can I do for you?" Alfie asked, shying back toward the door, turning Melody away from the widely smiling man. 

Marc straightened and stood taller, "Well, kid, a long ass time ago, I knew your mama. Both your folks, actually... And to make this short, Cas Novak might not be your dad, it might be me." 

A blatant look of realization crossed Alfie's features, and the moment he'd registered that Marc had mistaken him for Claire, he recalled the DNA test that had been an issue in his wife's life more than once, "Oh... Um, no, Cas is definitely- There was a test done, it was conclusive. I've seen it myself." 

"Is that right?" Marc asked, looking Alfie over, "You sure that wasn't just printed up to get child support out of him? Women've done worse, I could tell you stories." 

"No, that was issued by the hospital. Kind of hard to fake." Alfie said quietly. 

Marc's attention drifted back to Melody, "And how about this sweet little sugar plum right here, huh? Hope you had the sense to get a blood test run on her." 

"Um... No... Didn't need one." Alfie replied, his stomach churning as the unpleasant man stood far too close. 

"Do yourself a favor and rethink that, kid. A fella never really knows." 

"So, uh... Maybe we should go talk to Cas about this? I mean, he's home." Alfie said, squirming internally as something about the man set off alarm bells in his head. 

Marc seemed agreeable, "Is that right? Now, I heard he had some desk job, working with kids." 

"He's a middle school principal." 

"Ah!" Marc said, pointing at nothing in particular, "Good ol' junior high! What's he doing skipping work with a big old job like that?" 

"He had a health scare recently, Dean's making him take it easy." 

Marc nodded, "And that would be your, uh... step-mom?" 

"Oh, yeah. Dean's just great, though. You should meet him while you're here. But, yeah, we can just go walk over to, uh, to Dad's real quick, he can show you the test. There's really no doubt about it." Alfie said, pulling the door closed behind him, and starting down the steps. Marc had made an agreeing gesture and began to follow, as Alfie considered his options for getting Marc as far away as he could, and as fast as possible. One option, one he thought would never tempt him, kept rearing it's ugly head in his thoughts, "So you and Cas go way back, then, huh?" 

"Yeah, well, Cas was a fresh young thing in college when I knew him." Marc answered conversationally as they reached the road, "I'd be lying if I said there wasn't a resemblance between you two, but... Anyway, I was seeing this little thing on the side, y'know, just for fun. Amelia. But I'm sure you know her as mom." 

Alfie tried not to cringe, considering all he knew of the woman. 

"Bitch could run her mouth like nobody's business, but I never knocked her around too hard. We weren't close, of course, I had a woman at the time... Didn't mind getting some from your old man every now and again, either." 

Alfie nodded slightly, "Didn't really need to know any of that, but, okay." 

"Oh, so, you're squeamish, huh?" Marc asked with a laugh, "Relax, nobody wants to think about how they _came_ into existence." 

"So, um, Cas has never mentioned you, do you stay in contact?" Alfie asked, walking a bit faster. 

Marc shook his head, "Hell no. Never wrote me while I was doing time, either. Definitely not girlfriend material... So, how's your mom?" 

At this point they were getting closer to the house, and Alfie was quickly looking for Cas as a means of escape. He regretted not stopping by the shop just long enough to drop Melody off with Dean, or anyone else, if he was being honest, just to get her further away from the guy that seemed to be intent on spilling every embarrassing detail of his connection with Claire's parents. 

"She's okay... But, uh, I think you-" Alfie spotted Cas on the porch swing, typing something on his phone, and breathed a sigh of relief, "There he is. Hey, Dad!" 

Cas looked up as he heard Alfie calling to him, coming through the front gate with Melody, and someone else right behind him. Always happy for any time with his granddaughter, Cas stood up, pocketing his phone and starting to the steps with a smile that quickly faded as he caught sight of the stranger's face. 

"Marc," Cas said in surprise, "What are you doing here?" 

"Dad," Alfie said carefully, "This guy was, um, wanting to talk about that DNA test you have, the one you had to do for the hospital...?" 

Catching on quickly, Cas nodded, "I see. Yes, well, that's a perfectly reasonable thing to want to know, given the circumstances." 

"Heard you moved in with Jason not long after I was out of the picture. How's that asshole doing?" Marc asked with a tone that increased Alfie's impression that this man had no filter whatsoever. 

Cas shrugged, gesturing them all toward the door, "I haven't seen him in a couple of decades, I have no idea, really." 

"Didn't work out?" Marc asked pointedly, making Alfie, who'd lagged a bit behind, squirm slightly. 

Marc followed Cas through the door as Cas spoke, heading straight for the small office behind the front door, "No, it didn't. But if it had, I wouldn't have married Dean, so perhaps it's for the best." 

Cas opened a large cabinet, and then a fireproof box inside, retrieving a few sheets of paper, and turned around, awkwardly holding them out to Marc. Marc took them carefully, reading over them for a moment before turning to Alfie, "These clowns gave you a girl's name? Oh, kid, I am so sorry." 

"Um, actually, until recently, it was a guy's name, like Ashley." Alfie answered. 

"Is that right? Where's that come from, anyhow?" Marc asked. 

"French and Latin. It means 'bright,' or 'clear.'" 

"And it doesn't bother you at all?" 

"No, I, um, I really like the name." Alfie said quietly. 

Marc gestured to the baby in Alfie's arms, "How about her? Did you give her a nice strong name like Bruce?" 

"Mel, actually." Alfie answered, shooting Cas an uncomfortable look. 

"Well, I guess I came around and shook things up for nothing. I should've known right away a skinny little twink like you would be no son of mine." Marc said jovially, as though teasing Alfie with a joke they'd shared for years, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He passed the papers back to Cas, "Well, looks like you aren't doing too bad for yourself, Cas, never would have thought when you came out you were going to end up married, with a family, and, hell, you're even a grandpa! Not too bad at all... And I gotta say," he said, turning back to Alfie, "She is a beautiful little lady." 

Alfie couldn't help but twitch as Marc gently touched Melody's cheek. Melody hadn't yet outgrown her rooting reflex, and turned toward the touch, opening her mouth wide. Marc stood straighter, and turned back to Cas with a laugh that made Alfie feel sick to his stomach. "Now, that part, she certainly gets from you." 

Cas looked thoroughly irritated, but it was Alfie's discomfort that must have been the most visible, and seemed to egg Marc on. He inched a little toward the kitchen, wondering briefly how hard he might be able to punch the man without dropping his daughter. 

"Oh, relax son, it's just a joke." 

"Marc," Cas spoke up, "I'm sorry, but I'm actually recovering from a heart attack, and I'm afraid we'll have to talk some other time." 

"No kidding? You got a bad ticker? That sucks, sorry to hear it." 

Cas nodded, about to speak again when the door opened quietly and Dean stepped inside, clearly assessing the newcomer, "Hey, is everything okay?" 

"Yes," Cas answered, "This is Marc, he's an acquaintance of mine from a very long time ago." 

Alfie couldn't help but notice a rather loaded look from Dean toward Marc, and as a means of distraction, passed Melody to him, "Yeah, Marc came by to say hi, and get a look at that old DNA test. No big deal." 

"Yeah, I was just about to head out, Gabe hadn't mentioned the heart attack," Marc explained, turning back to Cas, "We should catch up sometime, though, hit the bar like we used to." 

Cas shrugged uncomfortably, "Sure, perhaps Dean and I can meet you someplace for lunch while you're in town." 

Marc seemed to laugh it off, shaking Cas' hand and giving him a pat on the shoulder, "Yeah, maybe. It was good to see you, Cas. Rest up, okay?" 

Marc then turned to Alfie, giving a similar quick goodbye, and shook Dean's hand, despite Dean's extremely cool demeanor, and stepped a bit closer to touch Melody's wispy dark blonde hair. 

"I can walk you back over, if you want." Dean offered with clearly forced manners as Alfie reached for Melody. 

"Oh, no need," Marc said quickly, "I'm sure you'll want to make sure Cas is resting, am I right? It's okay, I can find my way back to my car. It was good to meet you, Dean." 

"Right." Dean muttered, getting the door, and closing it behind Marc as quickly as he could. Alfie hurried toward the kitchen as quickly as possible as Dean turned to Cas, "What the fuck was that about?" 

"It's complicated." Cas answered. 

"Complicated?" 

Cas gave a tired shake of his head, "He was the one Amelia thought was Claire's biological father because she never got her copy of the DNA test. I don't know if he spoke to her, or how he even knew Claire existed, but he seems to have mistaken Alfie for Claire, so he couldn't have had many details to begin with." 

"So he's Amelia's ex?" Dean surmised. 

"More of a mutual ex." Cas said quietly, "I told you what happened." 

"Wait, so, that's the guy? The guy who had you so wound up you didn't notice when the condom broke?" Dean asked. 

"Didn't need to hear that!" Alfie called over the sound of the kitchen sink running. He soon reemerged, gently wiping at Melody's cheek with a wet paper towel, "So, he's gone for good, right? No reason to come back now that he knows there's no connection? Because I'm getting on a plane tomorrow, and the idea of him showing up again is making me rethink it." 

Cas nodded, "It's very unlikely he'd come back, and if he did, I'm pretty sure he won't bother Claire." 

"How sure?" Alfie asked, "Because I don't think anyone has ever given me the creeps like that before, and I've met some real winners." 

"Doesn't matter," Dean said, "Lucas got the same vibe off that guy, he shows up again, we'll run him off, if Claire doesn't do it herself. Pretty sure she'd see it in a heartbeat." 

"He'd probably come straight here, if he came back at all, so I'm not concerned... Well, more concerned about the boys, I'll warn them when they get home from school." 

"Warn the boys? What's this guy's deal, anyway?" Alfie asked, bouncing Melody slightly as she started to fuss. 

"You don't want to know." Dean replied as he moved to the door, "I'm going back to the shop, making sure he leaves, I'll be right back." 

Cas couldn't help but notice Alfie was holding Melody closer than usual, "I'm sorry, I'm sure that was very uncomfortable for you. Marc's never had much of a filter." 

"Yeah, that was a visit I could've done without... Is Dean right? That I don't want to know?" 

"Marc's served concurrent prison sentences, one for nearly beating a child to death, the other for attempted sexual assault that occurred during the first trial. Dean knows that, so he'll be well aware of anyone coming around during your trip." 

"Shit." Alfie breathed, "So this guy did all that and still wound up with less than thirty years?" 

"On the upside, one more strike, and he'll be in for a lot longer." Cas answered, stepping to the living room window to look down the road. 

Alfie leaned against the back of the couch, getting a better look at Melody's face, concern getting the better of him, "Gotta wonder if it wouldn't be better for him to run into somebody in a dark alley, though." 

Cas turned back to Alfie slowly with a look of concern, "What?" 

Alfie could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he realized Cas had heard him. Part of it was concern for his wife and his daughter while he was to be thousands of miles away, but also a fear that he'd be found out. 

"Um... You're sure, right? That they're safe? This guy won't come around again?" Alfie asked anxiously. 

Cas gave him a level look, "If I'm not, are you considering something I should know about?" 

Alfie shrugged, and noticed his hands were starting to shake. 

"I don't doubt that you have the resources to do something incredibly unpleasant to someone," Cas said in a very quiet, stern voice, "But I've never been concerned that you would. Not until now." 

Alfie shook his head, "I'm just worried, okay? I don't even know what I'm saying, it's not like I could just-" 

"Buy an entire ranch and build a mansion on a lark? Don't think I haven't done my research on your family, both sides. Anyone with that much wealth is bound to have some skeletons, but I had assumed you'd had enough distance from your parents to stay clear of that sort of habit." 

"Okay, fine, yeah. I could, but I wouldn't. I swear." Alfie answered. 

"I'm not sure I can believe that." 

"Why not?" 

"Because you have a wife and child to protect. I know what I'd be willing to do for my family, so I'm fairly certain you'd do similar, the difference is, you have less reason not to, and a better chance of getting away with it." Cas answered, watching Alfie's face carefully. 

Alfie didn't meet his eyes, his voice going soft, "Yeah, but... You're not asking me to...?" 

"No." 

"Okay." 

"In fact, seeing as we both recognize it as a possibility now that we're having this discussion, I'm specifically asking you not to." Cas said firmly, "I don't want murder, however justifiable it might seem, to be a part of their lives, do you understand?" 

Alfie nodded. 

"There's something you're not telling me." 

"I should get home, Claire's going to-" Alfie said, starting for the door, before Cas cut him off. 

"If you ever do something or ever did something that could lead to serious prison time, and you involve my daughter or granddaughter in any way... I don't think I really need to finish that sentence." 

Alfie swallowed hard, barely pausing as his hand hit the knob, "You don't." 

* * *

Kevin had gotten to the salon desperate for an easy day, especially after the day before had been so rough.

He always kept three openings in his schedule, just in case he had a walk-in client. He never had walk-ins, not that he wasn't in demand, but all of his regulars knew never to come in without calling ahead. They could have those slots, same day if they liked, but walk-ins were the signal for women who needed an out. 

She'd been on edge just getting through the front door, jumpy and frightened, trying desperately to get him to hide her, concerned that her husband was going to show up any minute. He'd taken her to the back room and sat her down to talk, wanting to be absolutely certain she wasn't in need of medical attention, and was actually ready to leave, and understood not to disclose the location of the shelter before he called for her ride. 

She'd been frantic. He finally talked her into a manicure, and eased into his usual spiel. She had cried for a solid twenty minutes straight, unloading her very burdened heart to him. 

It wasn't every day, of course. In such a small community, most days he had an easy workload of things he'd actually gone to school for, and the walk-ins were few and far between, an easy second paycheck. Margaret, who'd started working in the administration side of the shelter soon after they'd gotten it running, had a far more difficult job, and he still felt guilty that Crowley had somehow seen fit to pay him more for less effort. 

The beauty shop was quiet, and Kevin sprawled slightly in one of the chairs, listening to the single client a few chairs down chatting happily with one of his coworkers. He'd been hoping to doze off while waiting for his two o'clock. No one had expected what happened next. 

The glass door threatened to come off it's hinges as it was flung open with an angry roar, "Where the fuck is she?" 

Kevin was on his feet in a heartbeat as the man stormed through the shop in a frantic rage, "Hey, buddy, you need to have a seat. We'll help you out, you just need to calm down. Somebody missing?" 

"You..." the man growled, pointing at Kevin's face, "You're the asshole she came in here to see, right? You talked Kurt's girlfriend into going to live with her brother, you sack of shit! Where is my wife?" 

"I have no idea, but I can see why you don't know either. God." Kevin replied in his best sassy tone. He learned quickly that that had been a mistake, and did little to disarm the burly man. 

Kevin had taken a few beatings before, but not in quite some time, and this man certainly had experience. As the larger man's fist knocked Kevin to the ground, a fleeting thought crossed his mind, briefly wondering if the man would be evenly matched in a fight with a gorilla. 

A sharp kick knocked the wind out of Kevin as he started to get up, and he heard his coworkers screaming. Someone yelled that they were calling the cops as he was dragged up from the floor. He was thrown roughly against a station, and grabbed blindly for anything he could use as a weapon, hoping for scissors, but was soon yanked back, and with the sound of a shattering mirror, everything went dark. 

* * *

Dean sat in the quiet waiting room, a few dark smudges on his hands leftover from work, considering how deeply he hated hospitals. Alfie hadn't stopped pacing, and eventually Mike had climbed onto Dean's lap and fallen asleep. Margaret was continuously texting Kevin's aunt, and fussing about Linda driving herself, despite having driven to the hospital from the shelter.

Margaret had been led away by a nurse, and it had been a while, leaving Dean and Alfie wondering as they spoke quietly, waiting for news. 

Alfie had stopped to sit down but was up again the moment Linda entered the room. Dean could see she'd put on a brave face, but her red eyes gave her away. 

"Still no news, but they're talking to Margaret. She should be back any time, now." Alfie said quickly, embracing her. 

She nodded in response, quickly looking to the side of the room where her very lanky little grandson was draped limbs askew over Dean, who was attempting to update Cas, texting one-handed, "Did you see him?" 

"No. Hopefully that's where Margaret is now. It's been long enough. They did say he broke a couple of ribs." Alfie answered, "They did get the guy, though, picked him up a block away-" 

The door opened again as Margaret walked in, her face ashen, "He's awake... His face is really busted up, but probably just a couple scars, and he's got a concussion." 

"But they're done stitching him up? He's okay?" Alfie asked. 

Margaret nodded, and motioned to Linda to follow her, as Alfie patted Linda's shoulder. 

"I can take Mike home and stay there if it helps." Alfie offered. 

"You're leaving tomorrow, though." Margaret argued. 

"I can put it off or cancel. It's not like-" 

"No, don't change your plans. We'll get by." Margaret replied, "Just stick around a few more minutes so I can get you in to see him, then we'll cut you loose. You should be home, anyway." 

"What about Mike?" 

Margaret glanced at her small son, "Dean offered, while you were pacing. Don't worry about it. But thanks for picking him up from the daycare, today has sucked, royally." 

"Yeah, tell me about it, some creep showed up at my house and said he was my real dad, thought I was Claire." 

Margaret blinked, "What? ...Okay, no, tell me later. I'll be back for you in a minute." 

Alfie wandered back over to sit next to Dean, "You're babysitting, huh?" 

"Yeah, well, Ben and Xander have school, you've got a plane to catch, Cas wants me out of his hair so he can get back to work, and Claire's got Melody. It works out... And he's a hell of a lot easier than Ben at the same age. Ben was always into something, this guy's just clingy. That leaves those two free to fuss over Kevin. Linda's got a seat for him, so I'll take her car back over there and Margaret's going to drive her home later, we figured that out while you were on the phone with Claire." 

"Before you know it, he'll be working at the shop." Alfie muttered. 

"Why not? Margaret liked working there. She said she only left to get the shelter under control because she could take him with her, she wanted to come back, now she's knee-deep in high turnover and doesn't think she can leave without the whole thing caving... He'd be better off working at the shop, probably safer than what Kevin's gone and got himself into." 

Alfie shrugged, "Kevin believes very strongly in what he's doing... And the shelter is helping a lot of people, including a guy who's wife broke his collarbone." 

"Yeah, but what happens when Kevin doesn't manage to get home to his family anymore? I get that somebody has to do it, but maybe those two have done enough." 

"I don't know if they could stop." Alfie said softly. He gestured to the sleeping child, "You sure you got this?" 

Dean gave him a slightly grumpy look that carried echoes of Bobby, "I've got three kids, and one I actually had before age ten. I can handle it. You just worry about your buddy and the seven years of bad luck he had come down on that thick skull of his... There's Margaret." 

Alfie looked back to the door where Dean was pointing. Margaret had leaned in, tossing a set of keys past him to Dean, who caught them easily, and began to gently rouse the little boy in his lap. 

"C'mon," Margaret said, "They said they'll let you in because you're leaving soon." 

Dean passed his own keys to Alfie, "Don't screw up the paint." 

* * *

With the go-ahead from Margaret, Dean had hit a drive-thru for dinner, grabbing a burger for himself and chicken nuggets for Mike, who spent his time in the car happily making up a song about what his toys were doing.

Mike had been asking question after question, and finally wandered into the living room to watch cartoons, leaving Dean free to send Xander a text message reminding him to take his medications. Dean made a quick call to check in on Cas, and then joined Mike on the sofa. 

"So, what are we watching?" Dean asked. 

Mike only shrugged. 

Dean didn't recognize the program, but it had a decent plot, and soon enough, commercials were running. Mike looked up at him, "Is Daddy sick?" 

"Uh, Daddy got hurt at work. But the doctors said he's gonna take a few days off, rest up, and then he'll be fine." 

"Was it the scissors?" Mike asked. 

"I don't think it was the scissors." 

"Scissors cut hair and fingers." Mike said, holding up one of his fingers. 

"Yes, they do that. But he knows how to do that safely. I don't think it was the scissors." Dean replied. 

Mike was quiet for a few minutes before he spoke again, "I like cutting paper. It makes crunchy sounds." 

"Yeah, it really does, doesn't it?" 

* * *

Kevin was drifting in a fuzzy haze, mostly angered that someone would come into his place of business and knock him around, but in his numbed state, he also started considering the cost of the mirror, and wondered whether the cost would be covered under the greater non-profit that funded the shelter.

"So, y'know," Kevin said quietly, giving Linda's hand a squeeze, "Coming up on thirty in a couple of years, you knew I couldn't stay young and pretty forever... I had to get a couple scars so I could transition to 'ruggedly handsome.' Samandriel's slacking off, I'm gonna get more babes than him." 

"You're an idiot, and you're doped up." Linda replied gently. 

"Yeah, that's okay. I'm gonna come out of this looking like Harrison Ford. It'll be fine." Kevin let his head rock to the side, "Mags... You still gonna love me when I get my Han Solo face-transplant?" 

"Hell no. Indiana Jones or nothing." Margaret answered, checking her phone. 

"Okay, yes ma'am. Getting a weird hat, purse, and a whip. Don't fuss about the sexy sweat stains, though." Kevin mumbled, looking around the hospital room again, 

"Hey, who got Mike from the preschool?" 

"Alfie." Margaret answered. 

"Where is Mike, now?" 

"At home, with Dean." 

"Our house or Dean's house?" 

"Our house." 

"Is Cas there too?" 

"No, Cas is at their house. Dean is watching Mike. You're supposed to be resting." Margaret insisted. 

"Cas would make sure he eats something healthy." Kevin mused. 

Margaret shook her head, "Cas is healing up from his heart attack, and has Ben and Xander to care for. One happy meal won't hurt. Besides, Cas probably needs a break from Dean, it'll give him somebody to obsess over for a few hours." 

Kevin nodded, seemingly aware that his son was in good hands. He raised the back of his wrist and looked for a few long moments at the I.V. inserted in his skin, "When do I get to go home? And can I take the drugs with me?" 

"You're not going anywhere. But the cops are coming back to ask about this guy, and Crowley's flying in... Kev, I need you better, fast. I don't know what's going to happen, this guy could sue-" 

"Let that asshole sue. He can sue my ass for straining his back when he ran my head into a giant fucking mirror, I don't even care... Bastard... I'm gonna move to Tahiti and open a bikini shop. Change my name to Devin Fran." Kevin seemed to stumble through the words. 

Linda scoffed, "Well, at least you're in good spirits." 

"I haven't felt this loopy since... You said Crowley's coming to town?" Kevin slurred, "I hate that guy... He's the best, but I hate him." 

* * *


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: Omg, I am taking forever, still...
> 
> Okay, this is a really short one, but looking at how much played out in a tiny amount of time, I'm gonna post it anyway. Next chapter will be about a week after these events.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS - There is not violence in this chapter, not really, just mentions of squeamish stuff and discussion about a gun.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Fighting writers block, but I am bound and determined to finish this, it's just taking a while. Love you guys! FW)

* * *

"I don't feel right about this," Alfie whispered, the car waiting at the red light.

"What's to feel right about? You go, you kick ass, you come home a little more famous, and bring your mom with you, we deal with that, she disappears again, and we get back to real life." Claire answered. 

Alfie shot a guilty glance at the back seat. 

"It's a week and a half, a month from now she'll never know you were gone." 

"I'm sorry. Again. This is a lot to put you through, especially right now, just-" 

"Don't start." Claire cut in, pulling forward as the light turned green, "You knew what you were doing when you told Naomi you'd go. If you wanted to think it over, you should have done that when she first told you she set it up. Instead you just went for it, so... maybe next time." 

Alfie looked down at his hands, "It just seems like I'm following the same pattern, I mean, I know how important it is to be home for the big stuff, because my folks weren't around, and now I'm the one who's gone all the time." 

"Three or four times a year isn't all the time. And Ivan goes a whole lot longer, and his kids are fine. If I'm desperate I have family damn near underfoot, nothing crazy is going to happen until you get back." Claire assured him. 

"Why? What are you planning for when I get back?" 

"I'm gonna dress Dean up in a purple bird suit and make him do the chacha." 

Alfie shook his head, "I didn't need to picture that... You know you can call me, and I'll turn around and come back, right? I'll drop everything at any time if you tell me to." 

"I'm not going to tell you to." 

"Ask me to?" 

"No. No, you need to go wow some people, you make pretty stuff, and they want to see it." 

"Right, well... Don't open the door for strangers." Alfie said quietly. 

Confused by his comment, Claire scoffed, "Strangers? In a junkyard?" 

"Yesterday morning. You may want to ask your dad about it. He heard a rumor about you existing, thought he might be your dad, so... Couldn't have known much, thought I was you." 

"Right, because we look so much alike. How the hell could he mess that up?" 

"He only had a last name to go on, and a rough idea of age. Anyway, he saw the DNA test, so, no reason to come back, but if he does, I want to know... Your dad said he's bad news, I don't want him anywhere near you or Melody." 

"I can run him off." Claire replied offhandedly. 

Alfie shook his head, "Don't try... Please? At least, ask your dad about this guy, okay?" 

"As much as you want to protect me, you can't." she answered. 

"I can, sometimes. When you let me." Alfie said as he twisted in place, putting his hand back into the back seat, reaching for Melody's constantly flexing fingers as she started to fuss. 

"So as far as your mom goes... I don't know, do I need to worry I'm going to use the wrong fork?" Claire asked quietly. 

"She's not the queen of England, she just acts like she is. Besides, if she deigns to visit us primitives in the junkyard, she's coming onto our turf, and she's just going to have to deal with it... Besides, we only have one kind of forks." 

* * *

Cas rolled over, two things becoming quickly apparent; the bed was empty, and the sun was high enough to cast shadows, meaning he'd overslept. He dragged himself upright just as the door swung open, Nick bumping past Dean's knees as he came in with two cups of coffee.

"Okay, here we go," Dean said softly, "This'll wake you up." 

Cas took the cup Dean offered, suspicious of the dark tan color, but taking a sip anyway, and giving a grimace. "This is a different creamer." 

"It's soy based." 

Cas rolled his eyes, "I was already using a non-fat creamer, there was no reason-" 

"I'm weaning you off it." 

"It's not as though I was putting butter in my coffee." 

"Don't joke, Cas, we just change a few things, fixes everything." 

Cas gave a disheartened look into his cup, "I realize you're only doing this because you want to keep me alive a while longer, but at what cost?" 

"Like there's anything I wouldn't do for you?" Dean asked. 

"Put me out of my misery," Cas mumbled. 

"It's not that bad, you big whiner," Dean said, reaching for the cup, taking a quick sip, and attempting to hide his sour expression. 

"You'll succeed in breaking my coffee habit." Cas dodged the cup Dean attempted to pass back to him, "I'm going to go put in a short appearance at the school, maybe it'll help keep the rumors to a minimum. I'm sure the students have several variations on the truth by now." 

"What, already?" 

"I'll be back by lunch, if you go to the shop, you won't even notice I'm gone." 

"Cas-" 

"I'm cooperating. I'm changing my diet, taking it easy, resting my brains out. You can at least compromise by allowing me to salvage my career. Besides, you have a business to run." 

* * *

"College?"

"Yeah." Ben answered, "Crazy, right? But it's cool, she's just, y'know, amazing." 

"Why doesn't she just date a college guy?" Xander asked, turning the radio down. 

Ben shook his head, "She's better than that." 

"That's you, next year, doofus." 

Ben shrugged, "At least I'm not in danger of dying a virgin." 

"Whatever, you don't know shit." 

"I heard the whole thing. I mean, seriously? Is it your brain or your dick that's broken?" Ben asked. 

"Brain." Xander snapped, "And it's not broken just because you don't understand it." 

"How do you know?" Ben asked bluntly. 

Xander shot him a rather poisonous look, "How do you know you're not into guys? Or brick walls, or sticking sharp shit into your eyeball?" 

"Dude." 

"Oh, so you are into sticking sharp shit into your eyeball? Better warn your girlfriend, because that's risky." 

"I am not into-" 

"Bullshit. You just never tried it, right?" Xander growled. 

"Okay, fine, I'll shut up. At least I can get it up." 

"I fucked your ex-girlfriend, that's how I know it's mental, okay?" 

Ben couldn't hide his alarmed look, and the car jolted slightly, "Are you serious?" 

"I mean, Liz, though, that's enough crazy to make any guy's dick fall off, but you gotta admit, but that's pretty screwed up not even like, turning a guy gay, but shutting down the whole damn thing altogether." 

"You slept with Elizabeth?" 

Xander shrugged, "Yeah, but that was before you, so, no big deal." 

"Shut the hell up, you did not. She said she was waiting-" 

"She never liked you." 

Ben went quiet for well over a mile before he answered with a quiet voice, "So since you can't have any fun, you're just gonna make everybody else miserable?" 

Xander didn't answer as Ben made the turn onto the gravel road. 

"Okay, fine, be a douchebag." Ben grumbled, passing the shop. 

Xander looked back over his shoulder, "Back up and drop me off, asshole." 

"You can walk, dickbag. Or maybe that should be dickless." Ben grumbled, pulling up to the driveway as Xander popped open the door of the still moving car. 

Ben stopped quickly as Xander got out, starting back to the shop at a brisk, angered pace. 

* * *

"A gun?" Kevin whispered, "How did you- Why?"

"Um, because I don't want to go through it all again. I can't." Margaret answered from her perch on the edge of the bed as they both listened quietly to the sounds of a cartoon playing and a toy making noise in the living room. 

"Where are you keeping it?" 

"My purse." 

Kevin shook his head, "You're carrying? You don't- Did you get a license? Oh, god, did you take it to the shelter?" 

"I take it everywhere. Nobody will ever know unless it comes out." Margaret said quietly. 

"Unless it goes off! Or if somebody gets a hold of it! We are the ones who said no guns, it's the number one rule we've got! This is exactly why, people get scared and they stop thinking clearly, you know that!" Kevin hissed. He shifted uncomfortably, adjusting for the pain he'd given himself, and turned his attention back to her, "Where'd you get it, anyway?" 

"Dean." 

"Of course. The guy has no problem keeping his stockpile at a trauma victim's house, why not share it around, right? I mean, do you even know what you're doing?" 

Margaret gestured toward the door in irritation, "I've been shooting since I was ten! It was the one guy-thing my dad wanted me and my sister to know!" 

"That doesn't mean you learned right, no offense." 

Margaret scoffed, "Dean was thinking the same thing, and had some questions, and trust me, he knew right away that I knew what I was doing." 

"Bullshit. A waiting period and a license class would mean you knew what you were doing. Now if he comes around, we have to worry about him, but we also have to worry about you getting charged with unlawful possession." 

Margaret shook her head, "Not in the house, and not in the car. State law." 

"And Dean? If you say where you got it, he could lose his carry license." 

"No," Margaret replied, "He thinks he was loaning it to me for home protection only, and since I'm adult with no felonies, it's legal. I'm the only one who'd get in trouble" 

"For carrying... You have to stop. And we can't just keep it at home, we have no way to lock it up. You gotta take it back to Dean." 

"No." 

"Margaret, I can't-... I can't do this, I'm a mess, okay? I can't even think about it right now. Please, I'm asking you, just go lock it in the trunk, and give it back to him. We can figure it out, or take the permit class, whatever, just... What am I supposed to do? If you got arrested?" 

"I won't." Margaret protested. 

"You can't take it to the shelter anymore." 

"Relax." 

"I'm serious. You can't." 

Margaret gave him a hard stare, "Are you asking, or telling?" 

"Mags-" 

"You're telling." 

"Hey-" Kevin tried to sit up as she hurried out of the room. 

* * *

Xander had been in something of a snit when he'd reached the shop that afternoon, and according to Cas, Ben had been in a similar state, so Dean was perfectly aware that something was amiss well before the icy silence that imprisoned their normally warm and inviting dinner table.

And as Cas was still getting back on his feet, albeit against Dean's wishes, Dean felt it was his place to sort it out. And quickly, as not to let any perceived slights fester into rifts. 

"I know we've all been a little stressed out lately, but how's school going?" Dean asked before taking another bite of his dinner and looking across the dinner table between the two boys. 

Ben shrugged, "Pretty good." 

Xander snorted slightly at Ben's reply before answering for himself, "Yeah, it's okay. Nothing big going on... Nothing _major,_ anyway." 

Dean caught the odd emphasis on the word, and the tiny flinch Ben did his best to hide but pretended to ignore it, instead giving a nod, "Well, that's good. Good to know you guys are still on track, even with the way we all got pretty shook up." 

Cas nodded in agreement, "Yes, you've both been very reliable through this whole mess, and that really does mean a lot to both of us, knowing we can count on you both." 

Xander grinned, "Just trying to be mature." 

"Shut up." Ben hissed. 

Xander chuckled, killing any hope Dean had that he'd figure out what was going on by himself. 

"Out with it." Cas said, his voice weary but firm. 

Xander shook his head, "Nah, it's nothing. Really. Just giving Ben a hard time." 

Ben scratched at his eyebrow with his thumb, as Dean often did when put on the spot, raising further suspicion. Dean and Cas shared a look before Dean turned to face them both, "Nope. Spill it." 

"I have a new girlfriend." Ben mumbled. 

"Okay," Dean drew out the word, "Why is that a big deal?" 

"Because she's a freshman." Xander said quickly, earning a sharp kick below the table, making him jolt in his chair. 

"Excuse me?" Dean asked, shifting his gaze to Ben, "What? A ninth grader?" 

"More like thirteenth grader." Xander answered. 

Cas' posture eased considerably, "That's at least a little less concerning." 

"For her, not for him." Dean said quickly, "Ben, what the hell are you doing with a college girl?" 

"Probably a whole lot more than he'd be doing with a ninth grader... I hope." Xander answered with a smirk. 

"Would you please just shut the hell up?" Ben growled in Xander's direction. 

"Okay, stop." Dean said forcefully, "We're trying to cut down on stress around here, not make it worse, remember? ... Xander, upstairs. I'll be talking to you in a bit. Ben..." 

Xander's chair squeaked and he hurried upstairs, leaving Ben in the kitchen with two overly concerned sets of eyes upon him. 

"It's really not that big a deal-" Ben started before Dean cut him off. 

"What the hell would a college girl want with a high school kid? I mean, I'd get your side, but, I'm just not sure your head's on straight when women are involved." 

"Dad, I haven't done anything wrong, okay? And she's really nice." 

"Tell me one reason a girl in college would go for a high school kid. Because I can think of a few, and none of them are good. She might have a boyfriend she's trying to make jealous, she could be going for anybody available to pin a pregnancy on, or looking for an underage guy just because that's what she's into, but don't think for a second that just because she's a woman there aren't a million ways she could be using you, ways that'll screw up your life." 

"Right, no, you'd rather I be dating a ninth grader." Ben said sarcastically. 

"That's not- Dean, it's a year age difference." Cas interjected, "We don't know that she's actively trying to ruin his life." 

"We don't know that she's not." Dean argued, "Anyway, I'm not even sure you should be part of this conversation, the last thing we need is another round at the hospital." 

Ben tried to get a word in, but Dean was too fast, turning back to him as Cas rolled his eyes at Dean's exuberance. 

"Does she know? I mean, that you're still in high school? Because I could let this slide if it was Xander next year, that's just bad timing, but if you're trying to pass yourself off as a college student-" 

"I'm not!" Ben answered 

"Then what the hell is this?" Dean asked a bit louder than he'd intended to. 

"God, you guys really don't trust me to run my own life, huh?" Ben asked angrily. 

"Hell no! Not when you're seventeen and everything revolves around one thing, and you're running around with an older woman!" Dean answered gruffly. 

"She's younger than me." Ben answered sharply, "She's sixteen, okay? She graduated early because she's a fucking genius. Who's she supposed to date, Dad? Some twenty-year-old frat guy who crushes beer cans on his forehead? And I'm supposed to ignore that she's really cool because she's ahead of me, or smarter than me? Who cares if she was older, anyway? Cas is older than you by a lot more than one year." 

"Not by that much," Cas said quietly. 

"So, you done yelling at me for crap that's not real? Or did I fake the moon landing and the video of Bigfoot, too?" Ben snapped, getting up from the table. 

"Ben," Dean called after him as he made a beeline for the back door. 

"Forget it." Ben replied, shutting the door firmly in what wasn't quite a slam. 

The house seemed perfectly still for a split second before Cas set down the fork he'd forgotten he was holding, "Well... He's right, as far as I can tell. Perfectly 

appropriate. But now you've told him you don't trust him to run his own life." 

"Actually, technically, I said _we_ don't trust him to run his own life." 

Cas took another bite of his potatoes as Dean paused to mull it over, not moving except to knock Cas' hand away as he reached for the salt. 

* * *


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: Still working on it! I had a few 'omg - perfect!' plot ideas, and an unexpected character, which is going to make for a family-drama reveal later on, so maybe I'll get back to things going faster? Idk.
> 
> A little reminder - Rachel is from two episodes very late in season six, called the Winchesters petty hairless apes, and later Cas has to bring on the holy smackdown. Anyway, I figure the 'doesn't like humans' would translate well into 'snobby/vain/arrogant,' very much the little sister to Naomi's attitude.
> 
> Again, thanks for sticking with me, especially through this rough patch! I appreciate it, tons! FW)

* * *

Rachel had arrived late, unnoticed in the crowd, or so she thought, pausing only a moment to let Naomi catch a glimpse of her.

She'd heard a few things from a friend who'd seen her son's work firsthand, in St Louis and in San Francisco, but the descriptions and cell phone pictures hadn't done his work justice. 

More impressive than the work itself, at least half of which she didn't understand or care for, was the crowd it drew. There were critics and collectors she recognized, two of whom she'd never expected to see. 

She made it a point to take a close look at each item displayed, and at the ones she liked least, she lingered longest, attempting to understand, trying to see what it was these other people saw, feel what they felt, and if she were being honest with herself, find from where in Alfie's life they'd sprung into existence. Most of them, whether she liked them or not, whether she was impressed or not, were very visually pleasing, and only ever offended the eye when it was deliberate. 

This one, far too beautiful, a threat to her own supply of attention, not that she'd ever admit it, she hated. Rachel had lost track of time, but was aware that people were drifting away to an after party a few buildings away. 

A young man came to stand next to her, examining the same image with a very critical eye. She wondered briefly if he hated it as much as she did, and why he might have cause to find it unpleasant. He opened his mouth to make a quiet remark, and she immediately considered what she might say to defend the image she hated, feeling that, if nothing else, she owed her own child that much. 

"This one took me seven weeks... I'm still not sure about that green area..." 

His words echoed in her ears as she was caught by surprise, unsure whether she'd heard him correctly, but she did somewhat recognize his voice. She turned her head slowly, trying to keep her expression as neutral as possible, wondering if the young man was posing as Alfie in order to impress her, but catching sight of the mole next to his nose, she was certain it was him. 

Rachel nodded, "Well, it's not my favorite." 

"You have a favorite?" Alfie asked. 

Rachel pointed to one further off, "So far, I like two boys with the black car best." 

"That one... That one has a story, do you want to hear it?" Alfie asked. 

A brief flash of light caught his eye further off, but he ignored it. Rachel took another glance at the image where it was displayed, and gave a nod, walking toward it. 

"A man named John owned that car. He treated it like junk, almost as badly as he treated his son, Dean. When he got the money for a new truck, illegally, he sold off the car to a mechanic he knew, Bobby, for three hundred dollars. Dean, a troubled kid if ever there was one, was desperate, and tried to steal from Bobby's shop. Bobby caught him before he could take anything, and gave him a lesson in life, and a job, and later, when Dean needed it, a place to live and a recommendation letter to go into the military... Bobby had been restoring the car, and when Dean was kicked out of the military for reasons that would never cause him any trouble nowadays, Dean came back to work for him. He was doing okay on the outside, but he was dealing with the worst low of his life... Any time they had nothing else to do, Bobby made him work on that car, and every time Dean said he was done, Bobby would find something wrong with it. He had Dean work on that car until it was perfect, and Dean knew it inside and out, every piece, every sound, the shape of every part. There was hardly anything original on it. Then, one day, Bobby looked over the car, handed Dean the keys, and told him that it was never really about fixing the car... Those two boys are Dean's sons, Claire's brothers. If you look very closely at the chrome on the hubcap, you can make out a reflection of Dean walking away, his head is down because he's tired, but he's smirking because his sons were arguing just like he used to with his brother... There's a print of this picture hanging in the shop in the background." 

Rachel looked closer at the image they'd reached, the visual becoming clearer at the same time as the history behind it, and she'd have to lie to say she wasn't moved, not that she'd let it show, "Yes... That's a lovely story... They don't look like her at all." 

"Well, she's Cas' biological daughter, Ben, on the left, is Dean's from a previous marriage, and Xander, there, he was Ben's friend before he was placed with them in a foster arrangement, and then later adopted. But to them, well, all of us, really, we simplify it. They're my wife's brothers, she's their sister, and the boys call their fathers 'dad' and 'pops.' Claire calls Dean by name, but she was a bit older when they met. They're all very close. I'm lucky to have all of them." 

Rachel nodded, "It's very sweet... You don't have any portraits of your wife, or your daughter?" 

"None that I show... This one is obscure, no one is going to recognize them and go tracking them down, Claire or Melody would be a much more delicate subject." 

"Will I get to see more? Pieces you've done of the girls?" 

"A few. After we get there." 

Rachel wandered over to the next image as Alfie followed her through the crowd. 

"You didn't keep that one you made of me, did you?" Rachel asked, either paying no mind, or specifically ignoring how Alfie tensed and flinched, "God, you made me look so old, and ugly." 

"No." Alfie disguised the snap to the word with a clearing of his throat, "No, that one got torn up, I don't have the file anymore, either." 

"Good. I hated that one. The flowers were nice, though." 

Alfie looked around, wondering what excuse he might make, already having had enough of Rachel, when he spotted Naomi walking toward them both quickly, and realized he was on the hook for at least a few more minutes. Rachel pursed her lips and shook her head, a hint of possible tears. Real, or fake, he never could tell, but he was used to it, especially when she wanted something. 

"Rachel, what do you think? Your son is becoming quite the success." Naomi said with a shortness that did more to irritate him than flatter. 

Rachel nodded, "I'm very proud. And as long as that hideous picture of me never sees the light of day, I'll stay proud." 

Alfie bristled at the comment, and excused himself. 

* * *

Claire's face was streaked with tears when she opened the door, Melody's crying echoing through the small house. Dean stepped inside, giving her a hug immediately, "Hey, it's okay."

"She's been crying for an hour and a half straight. She doesn't even cry like this for shots." Claire said, "Nothing is working. She's a little warm, but not enough for tylenol." 

Dean nodded, "Sounds like she's having trouble cutting a tooth." 

"She just got a tooth." 

"Yeah, they usually come in two at a time. And you never know if it'll be easy or not. Maybe a car ride will knock her out for a bit, I'll hit the drug store in town and get her some of that baby-specific teething goo, but if that doesn't work, y'know, with Ben-" 

Claire frowned, "No whiskey." 

"I was going to say a frozen wet washcloth. But whiskey didn't keep Sam out of college, and that shit went right in his bottle, not just on the gums." Dean said with a chuckle, lifting Melody from her bouncy seat. The baby's face was red from crying, and the bib she wore was soaked with drool, a perfect example of infant misery, "C'mon, kiddo, you're gonna come to the store with Grandpa, and if you quiet down, maybe we can go see Pop-pop for lunch." 

"There's a bottle in the diaper bag. And my car's unlocked, so you can get the seat," Claire said with a sniffle. 

Dean nodded, "Yeah, it's okay, I got this. And remember, there's nothing wrong with hollering for some help, that's just a sign you know your limits. You're still a good mom." 

"It's just stupid, I mean, she's a really easy baby, and then out of nowhere she starts this crap, and I just can't take it." 

"She'll grow out of it," Dean answered, shouldering the diaper bag and heading for the door, "Then she'll be a teenager, and you'll have a whole new set of crap to worry about." 

* * *

"You have to let go," Julie whispered, having shut off the alarm.

"No." Ivan replied, mumbling sleepily against her shoulder in the dim room, "Only one thing better 'n waking up with you is not waking up with you." 

Julie chuckled, "That's sweet, but Cyndi has school. Susie can skip, but I have to call her in." 

Ivan sat up quickly, rubbing at his face, "I'll do it." 

"Do what?" 

"Call the daycare and get Cyndi ready. I dumped all my responsibilities around here on you for three months, it's the least I can do, pick up some slack." 

Julie shrugged one shoulder, "Okay, then which color shoes will Cyndi throw a fit over having to wear, and how do you find the number for the daycare?" 

"Um..." 

Julie let his attempt to answer hang in the air a bit longer, just enough to get through the fog of sleep that although his intentions were heartfelt, he wasn't likely to manage on his own in the time frame allotted. She smiled, "All the coffee stuff is in the same place as always, how about you start there?" 

Ivan leaned in close, giving her ear a soft, clumsy bite before climbing out of the bed and starting for the kitchen, his long dark hair falling unchecked around his shoulders. Julie followed soon after, checking the time as she passed through the house, and went to the girls' bedroom, waking them. 

Ivan was slowly falling back into a routine with the girls, who, after their initial excitement at his return, had had a few moments of awkwardness thrown in. It was understandable for such small children to have a difficult time readjusting to a parent's presence after three months apart, but Julie could tell how it weighed on him. 

At some point, routines had changed without him. Cyndi was the one helping Susie get dressed, Julie hadn't asked him to take out the trash, doing it herself, and the girls had worked picking up clothes and toys from their floor into their morning routine. 

After the scramble, Julie leaving to take Cyndi to school and head to the diner, Ivan looked around the nearly empty house, with only Susie standing on the sofa to distract him. 

It had been days. He'd had a long weekend, just him, Julie, and the girls, and he still felt tired. 

Something was missing, and he knew exactly what it was. The last three months. 

Ivan scooped Susie up from the couch, heading back to the kitchen for more coffee, "Susie Q... What are we gonna do today?" 

"Play Barbies!" she squeaked. 

"Play Barbies? You don't want to go check on the garden?" 

"Barbies!" 

"When did you get big enough for Barbies, anyway? Those things have tiny pieces. Choking hazard." Ivan mused, "We can go to the shop and see Daddy's friends." 

"No! Barbies, Dad!" 

"Stories? Playground? Happy hour?" 

Susie shook her head as he poured from the carafe. 

"Figures." 

* * *

Dean pulled the black Impala up to the curb at the front doors of the middle school. The passenger side window was open, and Dean leaned low over the middle seat as Cas approached from the door.

"Hey, sailor. Going my way?" Dean called. 

Cas rolled his eyes as he got in, "If a student heard that-" 

"They're all in class." 

"Melody, then." Cas replied, gesturing to the infant seat in the back. 

"Afraid she's gonna repeat it?" Dean asked. Cas gave him an irritated look, but didn't reply. Dean pulled out of the parking lot, heading for the diner, "She's been out since we got halfway to town, didn't even wake up when we got out at the pharmacy." 

"How's Claire?" 

"Looked like she hadn't slept all night." Dean said with a small shake of his head, "She'll be okay. She's tough." 

"I worry," Cas said softly. 

"Me too. But we do what we can, when she'll let us, she knows what she's doing. Then Alfie'll be back, no problem." Dean answered. 

Cas glanced over his shoulder, "Did you get the seat belt tight enough on the seat?" 

"Duct tape tightens everything." Dean answered, coming to a stop sign. 

"That's not funny." 

A short time later, Cas carefully wedged the car seat, less its base, in between the back of a booth bench and the table as he and Dean sat down. He touched her forehead delicately, "She's still warm." 

"As long as she's not burning up, don't worry." 

A young waitress came by and asked about their drink order and her presence was quickly replaced with Julie. 

"Oh my goodness! I heard Claire had the baby, but nobody told me she was gorgeous!" Julie cooed, "How old is she, now?" 

"Three and a half months." Cas replied. 

"Oh, that's a good age. Still not moving around, but they start sleeping longer." 

"Yeah, it is." Dean agreed with a smile, "Unfortunately there's teething in there, too. We had to run into town for some stuff for that." 

"Oh, yeah, the gel?" Julie asked with a nod, "Cyndi hated that stuff, she'd keep screaming, but it was a different scream, you know? So I had this brand new pair of socks, put some ice in a ziplock, stuck that inside the socks, one inside the other, and she chewed on that. So drooly, too, but the water didn't go everywhere." 

From the next booth one of the older women gave a rather dry clear of her throat, "Well, it's a wonder she's not buck-toothed." 

A titter circled the table as Julie fixed them with a no-nonsense look, one hand migrating to her hip, "Of course she's not buck-toothed. But it's rude for you to suggest that that would've caused it. I was following her pediatrician's advice." 

"Oh, please! Doctors don't know-" 

"Yeah, but they spend eight years not learning it. What do you know? How the human body works? Or just how to shut a kid up? And does the same trick work on nosy people who don't mind their own business?" 

"Well! I never heard such impuden-" 

"Yeah. You did. Last week, when I told you to stop telling that lady she had to feed her baby in the bathroom, or you'd be the one leaving." Julie answered with a sneer. 

She turned back to the table with a far more pleasant expression, "I have to get back to the office, but it was good to see you guys. I hope she feels better." 

Dean gave her a small wave as she headed back to the kitchens with an amused grin, "Wow... Go Julie." 

"She's certainly learned to stand up for herself," Cas mused, "I'm sure Ivan had something to do with it." 

There was a quiet round of chatter at the next table that he missed, as Melody had begun to fuss, and he busied himself with getting her out of the restraints, speaking to her softly. 

"Yeah, well, he started with enough attitude for both of them. Good to see things evened out. Kind of funny, though, the way he was about Claire working at the shop, now he's got two little girls at home." 

Cas nodded, "That's the fast way to change a man's attitude about women - give him a daughter... Although it didn't change much about Alfie." 

Dean scoffed with a chuckle, "Mrs Alfie Novak? Who wouldn't see that coming?" 

Hushed voices gained strength as their own quieted, this time it seemed to be about Ben and Xander. Cas was clearly craning his neck to get an ear in their direction, but Dean was having none of it, speaking loudly as he browsed the menu, "They're doing great, thanks." 

One of the women turned to lean around the corner of the seat back, "I'm sorry, what was that?" 

"The boys. Ben, and as one of you put it, 'the Stansfield boy,' they're great. So nice of you to ask about them. Ben's looking forward to college, and Xander is doing very well with his grades this year, he's also playing Varsity football. Maybe you'll see him play." Dean answered firmly. 

"Oh." the woman was taken aback, "That's nice." 

After a few moments of seated bouncing and back-patting, Melody curled her forehead against Cas' neck, her hand in her mouth, and went back to sleep. Dean set his menu down, "Do you want me to take her?" 

Cas shook his head, "I'll just get my usual." 

"Your tie's gonna be soaked." 

"I have three more in my desk." 

Dean closed his menu and set it aside, wondering, as he used to while watching Cas hold Mike in a very similar way, if they had made the right decision in deciding not to try to adopt a baby, or have a child through a surrogate. They'd discussed it at one point, it had been a rather long discussion, and they'd both agreed they were just past the right age for it, and that they might consider fostering again after the boys left home, but only older children. It wasn't that he wasn't happy with the decision they made, but the question lingered in the back of his mind occasionally, a piece of life he'd missed having with Cas, that Cas had nearly missed entirely with Claire, and Dean had thoroughly enjoyed with Ben. Deep down, he supposed, he just wanted to see Cas happy, but now, especially after Cas' heart attack, that door seemed entirely closed. 

"You're really loving this whole grandpa thing, huh?" Dean asked quietly. 

"Well, I've always liked babies. They're predictable, and prefer to stay on a schedule. Everything is simple for them. It's around age two that everything gets strange and they start throwing fits over nothing." 

Dean nodded, "Says the guy in charge of the pre-teen asylum." 

* * *

Naomi approached the table of the sidewalk cafe at a quick stride and took a seat next to her sister, "Well, Samandriel, I noticed you left early last night, but you did it without making a fool of yourself this time."

"What, Saint Louis? I tripped." Alfie replied. 

"It made the vlogs, dear. You have to be more careful." Naomi replied, as a waiter came to stand next to her. She looked up and rattled off an order, waiting until he'd walked away before addressing Alfie again, "Nobody wants another Gerald Ford. It's not funny." 

"It was funny when Chevy Chase did it." Alfie muttered, reaching for his glass, "And, anyway, I could show up in clown makeup and a speedo, there's not a lot of ways to mess this up." 

Naomi fixed him with a stare, "There are plenty of ways to mess this up. Get boring, and put out absolute crap and watch how fast you fade from the public eye. You barely had anything new to show." 

"I had a lot of new people to see all my old stuff, it was new to them." 

"Your audience doesn't care if you're up at three in the morning changing diapers. They want fresh content, new pieces to see. You brought four new ones and rehashed the rest." she replied. 

"Three in the morning?" Rachel asked, turning to Alfie, "You don't have a nanny?" 

"No." Alfie said firmly as an aside, still mainly speaking to Naomi, "Obviously I'm doing okay, because things are only going up. I'm gaining popularity without being one of those idiot flash-in-the-pan artists who are really just a one-hit wonder or waste their talent with fast cars and coke, so, with a steady, slow rise, maybe I'll last." 

"Maybe you'll fizzle out and get boring, and-" 

"And go home to nowheresville, back to my family, and be a recluse, out of your godforsaken spotlight." Alfie snapped, "Sounds good, 'cause _damn_ would I love to be home right now, kiss my wife, hold my child. You know my baby girl is teething? And soon she's going to be scooting, and crawling, and Claire is home handling all of it by herself, not that she can't, she's strong and capable, but she shouldn't have to. I missed the birth because you dragged me out to that meeting, and now I'm missing even more. But I don't need this. I could step away, just quit right now, and nobody would care. Nobody but you." 

Naomi glared silently as the waiter returned, setting a teacup and saucer down, pouring into it from a teapot, and leaving the teapot on the table. 

Rachel continued with her immediate line of thought, "Why don't you have a nanny for the baby?" 

"Because I don't want one, any time we need to hand her off, we have plenty of family around, and the rest of the time, she's with us." Alfie explained matter-of-factly. 

"Family? But a nanny would be easier?" 

Alfie knew the subject would come up, and had prepared himself for her objections, but it was still entirely different to respond with her sitting in front of him, "Mom, just because we can afford it doesn't mean it's what Claire and I want to do. We have our small house, our old cars, and we cook and clean for ourselves and work at the auto shop because that is how we like our life. We're happy, that's what matters." 

"Who can be happy getting up in the middle of the night with a crying baby?" Rachel asked with a befuddled look on her face. 

"Me." Alfie answered with a hint of irritation at the question. 

Rachel laughed slightly in response, "Brand new parents, always so obsessed with the baby. It'll pass. You'll have a bigger house to make room for a nanny when you get tired of running every time she cries." 

"Yeah, and Naomi's gonna take a vow of poverty and join a convent." Alfie answered sarcastically, standing up. 

"Where are you going?" Naomi asked. 

"It's ten, I'm calling my wife. I do this every morning, you just never noticed because you're never out of bed before noon," Alfie replied, "Well, not your own bed, anyway." 

Naomi turned her attention to her cup as she needlessly retucked her long bangs behind her ear. 

"How long, do you think? Until they calm down about the baby?" Rachel asked. 

Naomi shook her head, "Who knows? As long as they aren't asking me to watch it, I don't really care." 

"Have you seen her?" 

"Claire?" 

"No, my granddaughter." 

Naomi shook her head, "He sent me a few photos, but until she can talk, what's the point?" 

"I can't wait to meet her. From the pictures, she looks like she has my eyes." 

Naomi set her cup down, "She's the spitting image of her mother, so much so, I'm not entirely convinced Samandriel's her father." 

"Really?" Rachel asked, concern crossing her face. 

Naomi shrugged, "As often as he's out of town? At least the one man I'd suspect most is that Kevin kid, you'd spot that in a heartbeat. More likely to be involved with Samandriel, though." 

Alfie had managed to find a quiet corner inside the building, and dialed Claire, having received her text that she and Melody were both awake, and waited until she picked up, "Hey... I miss you." 

"It's only been a few days. You'll be back before you know it. How's it going?" Claire asked. 

"Well, I got a lot of buzz online, Naomi's watching it, and she's getting irritated because I only brought four new things, and my mom is on my ass to get a nanny." 

"What?" 

"Yeah, don't worry, I've been real clear, that's not happening. I'm out at breakfast with them now, but I needed a break... You know, the more these two talk, the more I realize how perfect you are?" 

"Perfect?" Claire scoffed. 

"Perfect for me. Real conversations, not bitchy gossip and crap about fashion lines." 

"No, my lines usually have to do with fuel and brake fluid." 

"Yeah, stuff I can understand. How's Mel?" 

"Second tooth broke through last night... We have to get her in to see a dentist." 

Alfie's eyebrows nearly met, "Why? Is something wrong?" 

"No, just, you're supposed to take them in every three months once they have teeth, until, like, two. Nothing's wrong. I'm already looking up pediatric dentists, I just didn't know we'd need to do that this soon." 

Alfie rubbed at the back of his neck, "You're really good at being in charge." 

"So I've heard. Also heard I'm good at other things." 

"Well, right now, you are the best distraction in the world, and for once, I don't just mean how hot you are. And you're an amazing mother." 

"I dumped Melody on my dads yesterday," Claire replied quietly, "I'm sure as hell not feeling like one." 

"Trust me, you are. I just hope you learn to see it before she starts college." 

* * *


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: I have had one heck of a day today, after two solid weeks of wwwwttttffff... I'm not even sure I like this chapter. But here it is anyway...
> 
> WARNING! Alfie has one of his nightmares. There's blood and implied gore, but only briefly.
> 
> Also, if you're not familiar with The Yellow Wallpaper, I'd recommend you take a peek at the wiki at least, it'll make things a little more clear. Not truly important to the story.
> 
> I think I wrote a couple of long paragraphs in here while only half awake last night, and I should really catch up on my sleep. I was hoping to get a nap today, but no dice. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, things are about to pick up, maybe? Got some stuff planned. FW)

* * *

Margaret sat at the bar side of the kitchen counter, still seething.

Kevin was still on leave from the salon, and had taken Mike to preschool, but the moment Mike was out of the room for the last few days, Margaret had gone cold. 

There had been no discussion, and when Kevin had tried to explain his actions, she'd walked away. She was sleeping in one of the many other rooms, and may as well have had the door locked, as Kevin new better than to try to approach her. 

Now, however, he seemed to think it had been time enough, and he walked into the kitchen to stand directly in front of her, "We have to talk about this. Better now while he's at school." 

Margaret gave him a heavy look, and went back to staring at the screen of her phone. 

"I will go back to my mom's if you want me to, Mags, but if I do that, I'm taking Mike with me. We can sort out the rest later." 

Margaret's blood ran cold, "Great. Anything else you want to take away from me? Oh, wait, no, that would make it everything." 

"I didn't take-" 

"If I go down there, are they even going to let me in the door? What the hell did you say to Crowley?" 

"Margaret, please... You have to see it. You have to hear how crazy this shit sounds. It's one thing to have a gun in the house or carry with a permit and be safe about it, but you're breaking the law, and completely ignoring rules we put in place. You're already exhausted, work sucks, but somebody has to do it, I get that, but you are scaring the shit out of me... I don't want to up and leave you alone like this, and I know you're pissed at me, but I can't leave Mike here with you right now, not when I'm actually wondering if you're having a fucking mental breakdown, and there's a weapon involved." 

"That's completely ridiculous." 

"No, it's not. And I hope to god if I ever did any of the shit you're doing now, you'd do the same thing, protect him, and yourself... So, what is this, exactly? Fear? Stress? Both?" 

Margaret stroked her hair back from her face, fighting back tears of anger and frustration, "You called my work for me, the same place that pays you loads more than me for doing practically nothing, and got me put on leave. I'm surprised you don't just take the gun away from me, pat me on the head and give me a damn lobotomy, and start talking about taking away my right to vote. Yellow wallpaper my ass-" 

"Don't make this a feminist thing. This is not a gender thing." 

"- wandering womb, making my humors all out of whack-" 

"Margaret, come on," Kevin said, rounding the end of the bar as he spoke, though she continued to speak over him as she got down from the stool. 

"-solve that shit with a hysterectomy, right? Classic macho bullshit! You're not immune, you know." 

"I get it, okay? You're scared, I'm scared too, but this, you, are my priority. Obviously, I either still trust you, or I'm delusional, because I still haven't gotten in your purse to get the damn thing." Kevin said loudly. 

"What difference does that make? You're planning to leave, right?" 

"If you want space from me after the job thing, yeah. But think about my side of this, I know one of the people working at the shelter is burnt out and breaking the rules. I didn't tell them what's going on, I just told them to put you on an extended leave. If I told them you were packing, that would have been some serious crap... Vacation, right? Where?" 

"Like I'm going anywhere." 

"Where? Pick a spot. Hawaii, Disney, whatever." 

"I don't want to go." 

"Where? Just tell me, I'll set it up. Just you, all three of us, or have my mom watch Mike, whatever you want, just tell me." Kevin insisted, still following her. 

"Fuck off." 

"I can't. I'm the one who got you started at this job that seems to be screwing with your head, this is my fault." 

Margaret started toward the guest room, but Kevin put his arms around her snugly, refusing to let go, even as she pried at his hands, "Cut it out!" 

Kevin shook his head against her shoulder, "If we can't talk this out like adults, you're gonna run off like a little kid, I'm reverting to playground rules." 

"That's not fair." 

"I get that you're pissed, I'm a fucking tattletale. Give the gun back to Dean, or leave it at home. We'll lock it up, no harm, no foul. Just tell me what you need for the stress stuff, help me with this - no yellow wallpaper." 

"You're an asshole." 

"Yeah, but I don't do it lightly." Kevin replied, rocking her slightly, "I don't know what to do... I don't want to go to my mom's, I don't want to take Mike over there, I don't want to be away from you and have to answer those kinds of questions, please, please try to see my side of this... I love you, Mags, I just need you to tell me how to fix this." 

Margaret could feel a hint of dampness in the fabric of her shirt, "You think I'm gonna be less of a bitch because you're crying on me? 

"I think you're gonna see how lost I am on this one." Kevin answered, "I think we get the hell out of here for a while, and we get back to the point where you're not packing like a gangbanger." 

"Gangbangers carry purses, now?" 

Kevin chuckled in spite of himself, and Margaret let her hands fall away from his. 

"Fine," she said softly, "I want to keep it, in case my dad comes around when he gets out, but I'll stop carrying, unless I get a license, and not at the shelter." 

Kevin stood a little straighter, pressing a kiss to the side of her head, "And the vacation?" 

"I don't care, just no planes." 

"Okay. I'll set it up... What about Mike? You know, he loves my mom, it'd be okay if it's just us, just you and me." 

"And leave him here?" 

"Not like that... Just, the best thing for him is we take a bit, de-stress, sane up, love on each other for a while, right? If we're better, more solid, we're more solid for him, too." 

Margaret nodded, "Yeah, okay, fine, but only for a week." 

"I love you." 

"I'm still angry." 

"I understand that," Kevin said softly with a long inhale that wasn't quite a sniffle, "What about a nap? Make us both a lot less cranky." 

* * *

_Alfie felt the cold strand of metal cross his skin again, even before he opened his eyes. He must have fallen asleep on the couch, and his shirt was off... Not entirely unusual._

_Claire's head rested on his chest, a common position for them, as the contact was comforting to him and allowed him to fully relax and rest, and on her stomach, she was least likely to have nightmares if she fell asleep. She must have felt him jolt awake, because she tipped her head back to look at him, the remote resting half forgotten and loose in her hand where her wrist rested on his hip. "Are you okay?"_

_Alfie nodded, taking a deep breath, making the many shimmering loops of thin, braided gold jewelry chain shift, gritting against itself, "Yeah, I'm okay."_

_With a dismissive shrug, which somehow turned painful for him, Claire returned her attention to the television._

_Alfie lay still, his slender body draped with Claire's, both of them seemingly having been rolled in a gilded web of a sizeable spider, and wondered at the sharp pains he'd felt when she moved. A strand of the golden chain crossed his shoulder before continuing around Claire's body. This wasn't the same five meters of jewelry chain Claire had picked up on a spool at the craft store for a bit of fun on their anniversary, the one that only hurt when it caught a piece of hair on his arm. This one had diamonds spaced along its length._

_He wondered briefly how he knew they were diamonds, as he wasn't very well versed at identifying stones, but that no longer mattered, as Claire moved once more to change the channel, and they dug into his skin, "What do you want for dinner?"_

_"I, uh... Is this thing hurting you? Because they're cutting into me." Alfie said softly._

_Claire sat up sleepily, the chains dragging across her bare skin, every sharp stone slicing a barely visible line, causing a plethora of red threads of blood to pour from her, either running down her body, or falling directly onto his own, occasionally pooling at the opening of the wound to fall in thick drops, "What are you talking about?"_

_In horror he reached for her, instinctively attempting to lessen any further damage, but she pulled further away, the chains digging in harder, tearing at her flesh, leaving larger wounds, "Wait! Claire, don't move!"_

_His pleading fell on deaf ears as Claire stood up from the couch, and Alfie was helpless to do more than watch as the chains slipped silently through her body, falling slack against him, and slowly, every cut chunk of her body fell apart, tumbling to the floor in a bloody heap, the edges cut neatly, and not unlike a butcher's work._

Alfie woke with a start, his eyes wide in the darkness, and his breathing labored. 

He found his way through the dark hotel room to the window, opening the curtain just enough to let a little light in from the city glow, and moved on unsteady feet back to the bed. 

After a few moments' frustration, he checked the time on his phone and adjusted for the hour difference, concluding that Melody may have woken Claire already. He wanted to call her, hear her voice, and remind himself he had an active imagination. It was the soul of his art, being able to see what was there and what wasn't, to see things differently, and honing the skills needed to make them visible to the general public. That same creativity was a curse. 

He shut his eyes tightly and focused on the last time he'd had a similar dream, of finding her underwater, cold and blue, a dark rope around her throat, her hair billowed around her face, when she'd begun to glow, burning away her bonds... always with flames. 

Alfie wondered about the dream - gold chains and diamonds hurting him, killing her, causing pain as she'd moved further from him. It wasn't entirely out of place. He'd worried for years about the fact that his family's wealth and influence had caused a death connected to her, and what her reaction would be if she ever found out. Now, though, he wondered how that same complication could damage her, or his connection to her in other ways. 

* * *

Ivan kept the phone braced to his ear as he spread the peanut butter on celery, "You're kidding."

"No," her voice came back, "The minute this started winding down in the press, and she got that interview where she said you were acting like an older brother, there's been a lot of interest in that little album you did a couple years ago. Her diehard fans, well, not every little girl is gonna be into boy bands, some like darker stuff, or just decent music, and you've got the bad-boy thing happening. They're taking you on as a side-idol." 

"Yeah, but-" 

"So a bunch of young ladies are digging up your old photos and swapping them around online." 

"Wait-" 

"You're just on the old side of heart-throb. Don't blow it." 

"Heart-throb? I'm a dad." Ivan scoffed. 

"Have you ever seen a firefighter calendar without kittens?" 

"What?" Ivan asked in response to the very unexpected question. 

"I'll send you a link, look it over, try not to respond to any of it, okay? Not any of it." 

"Oh... um, okay." 

The woman ended the call abruptly, and Ivan set the phone down, her words still filtering in his mind. Susie's feet thumped on the floor as she ran through the house quickly, climbing up onto the chair next to him, ready for her snack. 

Ivan pushed the plate in front of her, pressing a raisin into the peanut butter, but she insisted she was going to do it herself, and removed it as his phone chimed. He watched as she started taking the raisins on the side of the plate and putting them on the celery one at a time, very clumsy and deliberate as she moved, and picked up his phone, opening the link. 

Before he knew it, he was staring at the screen as she ate, finding old photos of himself retouched, most of it badly done, and a disturbing amount of chatter. There were theories that he and Lila were secretly lovers, or siblings, one fan had said he was a very young uncle, and another claimed he was in love with Lila's mother. Detractors were still upset at him for either stealing the spotlight, or still saw his actions toward Lila as abusive, claiming he was controlling her. 

A few places had seen his solo work, compiled as a long-running side project to every small project he'd worked on for the two years leading up to becoming part of Lila's band, dragged out and analyzed. A fourteen-year-old girl called him beautiful and tortured. 

Ivan looked up to find Susie's round face smeared with peanut butter, a few raisins stuck to her face and fingers. She caught his eyes and gave him a big, messy smile. 

He didn't want to think about the difference eleven years could make, or seven, in Cyndi's case. He didn't want to think about his daughters carrying crushes for older men, or 'bad boys,' or rock stars, but it was all there. And with her big eyes staring at him, he worked hard to hide his discomfort. 

Daddy-issues. That had to be it. He'd exploited them often enough as a younger man to understand them well, he only hoped that same understanding would help him prevent it with his own children. 

"Susie? You like school, right?" Ivan asked. 

"Yeah." 

"Good... You know your ABCs and colors, right? You're really smart. How high can you count?" 

* * *

At yet another lunch, Alfie was doing his best to keep his sanity, but now, Naomi had spilled the beans about his change of name.

His mother turned in her seat, slapping his upper arm with the back of her hand, "I gave you a perfectly good name at birth!" 

"You gave me a long, hard to spell piece of crap, a middle name from a saint nobody's ever heard of, and my father's family name, which you haven't used in years." Alfie replied. 

"What did you change? Show me your license." 

"I'm not getting my driver's license out for anything less than three shots of whiskey." Alfie replied, rolling his eyes, "It's Alfie Novak now, I left the middle alone." 

"Why the hell would you do that?" Rachel snapped. 

Alfie shrugged, "I've been going by 'Alfie' for years, and I wanted to have the same family name as my wife. Her name is kind of a big thing in town, I wasn't going to ask her to change it." 

" _Alford_ is a big name around the world." 

"Nobody cares. And, anyway, I'm still putting my work out there as Samandriel Alford, this just makes it a little more difficult to find me in case I want to disappear, or keep weirdos from tracking me down at home... Not that it stops the ones who've never heard of me." 

"What does that mean?" Naomi asked quickly. 

Alfie shook his head, "Don't worry about it." 

"And your father? What does he think?" Rachel asked, "Does he know his granddaughter's name makes her look illegitimate?" 

Alfie scoffed, "I had the name a year before she came along, and there's no doubt that's my kid." 

Naomi shrugged, "Well, men, you know, they can never really be sure, can they?" 

Alfie shot her a very tired look, not about to explain how much time and effort it had taken to build his relationship with Claire into a healthy one, out of something that had started out of clumsy desperation as she'd easily fallen for the obvious safety of his kind and tender demeanor. He honestly had his doubts that Claire would be capable of keeping a relationship with another man, a thought that plagued him almost every time he got on a plane, or considered his own mortality. 

"Oh, relax. I didn't mean you, specifically." 

"Yes, you did. And if you weren't already on thin ice, you'd be a lot more direct. But we're getting to where I could get someone better, so you're trying harder not to piss me off." Alfie replied. 

* * *

Claire struggled to get through the office door with her arms full of papers and Melody, who was fussing loudly, and nearing an actual cry.

"Hey, Randy," Claire said quickly to the portly man at the desk, roughly her own age, who was clearly in the middle of training a new employee. 

"Claire, hi. Need some help?" Randy asked quickly. 

Claire shook her head, hurrying for Dean's office, well aware Randy was speaking of her to the new hire. She managed to get the cracked door to swing open, and commenced to juggle Melody into Dean's hands before depositing three separate stacks of paper onto a clear area of the desk. 

"Okay, what am I looking at?" Dean asked quickly, shifting Melody to his shoulder as he sat forward. 

"Projections, the insurance accounts you asked about, and this one is a countersuit from that guy who hit Xander with your phone. You were supposed to fax it to Sam, but it got mixed in with everything else." 

"How do you know I was sending it to Sam?" 

Claire pointed to a note scribbled in the margin, 'Fax to Sam, he'll have friend look over.' 

"Right. Okay." Dean said with a nod, "Okay, so, projections, what have we got?" 

"Well, we've got at least one new hire you didn't say a word to me about, so, every single number in here is now off. Also, why?" Claire asked. 

"You've been busy. You're still on half-time, remember?" Dean replied. 

Claire waved an empty arm toward the door, "I need to know-" 

"Yeah, and I could've used the whole human drug-test superpower thing, but the whole mom-thing needs to come first, right? I mean, a few afternoons with your dad, a couple days with Alfie home, where you take off for your breaks, and maybe we can figure this out, but right now, priorities... Actually, I'm kind of surprised you got all this done." 

"You couldn't call me in for the interview? Or tell me there was one? Or that you hired somebody?" 

Dean shrugged, "Hey, you're not the only one that's swamped, okay? And we never know how much pressure you're under with Mel, so, we're all trying not to push you too hard. Give it time, okay? You'll get back to it at your own pace." 

"Do you have _any_ idea how out of the loop I am? How far I'm falling behind on all this? Maybe you're trying to do this without me, but seriously, we are way past the point that you can keep this place running without me. So sue me if I'm trying to keep this whole thing afloat." Claire answered harshly, before tapping the legal papers, "No, wait, this guy has it covered, suing us already. All over a stupid inability to name the part right, and keep his cool." 

"Claire, listen," Dean said gently, "I know you're trying to get your feet under you, balance the whole work and family thing, but this isn't something you want her in here for. Repairs, inventory, you can't do everything you want to do walking around here with a baby on your hip. And until you find that balance, or that balance finds you, you're gonna be out of the loop, and you're gonna be handling the paperwork at home, and you're gonna be out for sometimes four or five days at a time. But we have to have mechanics in the bays, we have to get the repairs done, and I had to get another person in here. I can't stop to run everything by you, some stuff is gonna slip through the cracks, but the flipside of this is, as good as you've done running the office side of things, the way this business keeps growing, in no time, you're gonna get to where you can't stop to tell me about stuff either, you're just going to have to handle it and tell me later, and I know what we get there, I can trust your decision." 

Claire looked exhausted as a frown settled on her face. She was about to speak, but with a quiet knock, the door cracked open, and Randy leaned in. 

"Hey, uh, Mr Peters is here, wants some info on the insurance decision?" Randy shrugged anxiously, "Complaint department?" 

Claire nodded, following him back to the front office, "Yeah, at least I got this one." 

Dean bounced Melody gently as she reached for anything she thought she could get hold of from his desk before he stood up to pace with her. 

In the front office, Claire greeted Mr Peters as Randy pulled up his file on the computer. 

"So, what's the verdict? Are they going to pay for the repair?" he asked. 

"Insurance says it's totaled. I'm sorry." Claire replied. 

"But it's perfectly fine, it drove all the way out here," Mr Peters objected, "Except for the headlight, all the damage is cosmetic." 

Claire nodded, "This is where it gets rough. You and I know that's a mechanically sound vehicle, but now that the insurance has listed it as a total loss, your options for keeping the car are a big, convoluted mess. You can buy back the salvage title from the insurance, track down one of the few folks who can inspect the damn thing, and get the title changed to 'rebuilt,' we can fix it up good as new, but from here on out, it's on there forever, your sell price will be lower, your insurance on it is going to be a hassle, lots of paperwork. You're probably going to be much better off cutting the loss and looking for another car." 

Mr Peters nodded, and ran a hand over his face, "I really don't want to do that, this one is paid off." 

"I know, it sucks. But you can ask the insurance for a couple days to think it over, do some research on your options, and if you do want to do this the hard way, of course we'll be happy to handle the repairs." 

"And this inspection, you guys can't do that here?" 

Claire shook her head, "Nope, this is going to be DMV only. Personally, I wouldn't tell the insurance folks anything until you're a hundred percent certain on how you want to handle it." 

"Okay," Mr Peters answered, "All right, then is it okay if I leave it here? Or, what next?" 

"We can keep it for you, two weeks, no charge, we just need to keep the keys in case you let the insurance take it, or if we need to move it." Claire answered. 

"Well, I appreciate that. And for not jerking me around like the insurance keeps doing." Mr Peters said with a chuckle as he headed for the door, "I'll give you guys a call when I get this figured out." 

"Absolutely. Let us know if you have any more questions." Claire answered. She turned to the new hire as the door closed, "You see that? That was a good customer. Didn't break your boss' phone on your face like the last guy who came in here with a problem." 

The young man looked up at her, slightly startled by the idea. 

"What's your name?" Claire asked abruptly. 

"Uh, Blake." 

Claire scoffed, "Okay, Blake. Randy's a really nice guy so he's not going to tell you this, and I'm guessing you haven't met Lucas yet, so let me make this really clear... The customer is not always right. In fact, sometimes they're a lying jackass, but you still have to be respectful. You're going to be very careful in the garage, because if you're not, you're going to get crushed by a car, or have half your hand ripped off. You don't want to know how I know that. No drugs, don't steal, don't throw anything that breathes." 

"'...throw stuff that breathes?' What?" 

"You heard me." Claire continued, "And furthermore, if you stick a wrench in the coffee pot, you will suffer for it later. Ask Xander about that." 

After Claire had returned to Dean's office, Blake turned to Randy, who adjusted his glasses, "Um, that was Claire. She's, uh..." 

"Always like that?" 

"No... Well... Yeah." 

"I bet." 

Back inside Dean's office, Claire picked up Melody from Dean's lap. 

"So, new guy...?" 

Claire shook her head, "He's clean. Might not listen as well as he should, doesn't seem like he's catching on very fast. What's his background?" 

"Fast food." 

"Great. Can't run through a drive through and get a damn chicken sandwich without mayo, and this is where he wants to be?" Claire muttered. 

"He'll be fine. What about you?" Dean asked. 

"What about me?" 

"Are you keeping it together okay?" 

"We're good." Claire replied, "What else have you got for me?" 

Dean shook his head, "That's it for right now." 

"That can't be it." 

"It is. Any more and we'd have to move you back to full time, and further throw off your projections, right?" Dean said, "Go home. Fuss over your kid, get her playing with her toys and read to her." 

Claire grumbled slightly. 

"What?" Dean asked, "You know if you're bored, or just tired of sitting around at home all day, you can just come over, any time you want. I know Cas would love to spend some time with you." 

"Yeah, well, she gets cranky the minute the sun goes down, and I really hate hearing her scream. It hurts." 

"Oh... Okay, never mind, I think I got you covered." Dean replied. 

* * *


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: A MONTH! Omg, and what a wild month it's been...I spent a weekend in Houston. Made a lot of friends. It was incredible. Meanwhile, you're all over here hanging, and I'm sporadically working on blocking out my plot points, and not catching up to my two-chapter buffer zone at all! I'm horrible.
> 
> I am not abandoning this. I swear. I am somewhat overwhelmed by bits and pieces supposed to occur at varying times. I am doing better about typing up my plot bits, so I can rearrange them instead of repeating the same pieces in my head over and over. I have plenty story left to do. Made myself cry a couple times typing up today.
> 
> So... WARNING! Some mild self-harm type of talk indicative of depression. 
> 
> Reminder: You are a complete and total stranger to me and likely, we will never meet, but I love you, so, please, take care of your mental health. You, and the entire rest of the world only get one you, are you are the best person ever at taking care of you.
> 
> Thank you all for reading, hope you're still enjoying the story. FW)

* * *

Claire had been stuck on the couch for what seemed like hours when a distraction finally came in the form of a silent ring on her phone. Shifting Melody to one side, careful not to wake her, she answered quietly.

"Dean tells me I'm coming over in an hour with dinner and a card game, and he and the boys will have to fend for themselves." Cas informed her.

Claire smiled, "That sounds fun. Mel's going to be asleep, though. Well, if I'm really lucky."

"As much as I love my granddaughter, she's not much for conversation."

Claire smirked, "You miss the dead stripper jokes."

"Claire-"

"You do. Admit it."

"Fine, I miss the dead stripper jokes... Where am I stopping for dinner?"

* * *

Cas found himself in quiet contemplation as he moved his car the short distance to his own home. He and Claire had been too wrapped up in conversation, and quickly lost track of time. It had been hours. Melody had been asleep when he arrived, as Claire had predicted, and aside from a fuss that didn't fully wake her, had been quiet the entire time.

He considered the date, and realized it had been nearly ten years since he'd first brought his daughter home from California. A few drinks with dinner had caused enough of a haze to keep him from sorting out exactly how long it had been, but give or take, it was around ten years. She had been a skittish, reserved girl, likely terrified, he supposed, now that he knew the entire story, and it had taken some coaxing to find things to talk about. It had been difficult to discover similar interests at first, even his own life at the same age was hard to compare with hers. It had taken months before they'd had any sort of relaxed conversation.

And now, ten years later, he was stopping by her house to catch up, play cards, and spend time with her. She'd been so busy being a mother, and trying to help Dean with the shop that they hadn't had a real conversation in months, apart from talking about the baby. She'd confided that she was nervous about meeting her mother in law, and what the woman would think of her, her daughter, and their home, and how she hoped they'd get along well, despite the obvious abandonment her husband had suffered.

The evening was a refreshing reminder of the personality she carried, that he had so quickly grown to know and love once they'd developed real contact. Her humor, her wit, her intelligent remarks. He was proud of her, and would have been proud anyway, but on a social level, they clicked, and for that, he was deeply grateful.

Claire's arrival in his life had changed him greatly. He'd been a school admin for years, quiet, drifting through life with the occasional lover or boyfriend, dragged into their social lives. He'd only been close with Charlie, and stayed on the fringes of the small town's society. 

Roughly twice a year, he'd reconsider his decision to stay, not feeling held back by anything. Even long-term relationships would have been dropped at a moment's notice were he given any indication a life elsewhere would have been any more preferable to the tiny nothing of the town of his ancestors.

Then, in one go, with a simple notification on social media one night, a friend request with a familiarly strange face and a name he'd written many times, with a fudged birth year on her profile, suddenly it all mattered. His live-in boyfriend was less of a priority, and having stability in his career and keeping his house mattered a great deal more.

Cas had practiced many times on his drives to and from work, considering what he would say to Amelia to ask her to let Claire visit over the summer, but somehow it never came up. He'd gotten close a few times, but when he'd called, Amelia was unavailable, and instead, he'd have a conversation with Claire.

The phone calls had been different from the ones they'd had when she was much younger, most notably, she didn't call him daddy anymore. He recalled the first one after she'd found him online, giving him the new number. Amelia had picked up, sounding sick, but probably high, and quickly put Claire on. 

Cas gave a look to the large front door as he climbed the porch steps, and opted for the swing instead, thinking over the conversation.

He'd asked about school, an easy cop out for any adult speaking to a child, and gained the usual answer, it was 'fine.' He'd apologized for missing her birthday, explaining that he had tried to call several times after the last number he'd had had been shut off, hoping it would be reconnected. Her reply had been both uncomfortable and forgiving, making excuses for her mother. He'd clarified what her age was, getting it right on the first try, and she'd talked about a movie she'd seen with some friends. He'd listened intently, but missed so much of what she'd said, silent tears in his eyes, just happy to hear her voice. He'd asked for the new address, and said he would be sending her mother child support, and asked if she needed anything... In a request that was all too familiar to him, she'd asked him to send her a photo of himself, as she didn't have any.

He'd managed to get off the phone before his emotions completely took over.

The front door quietly cracked open behind him, and a moment later swung open wider as Dean emerged, wearing only sweatpants and carrying a blanket. He sat down on the swing as Cas pulled him close, spreading the blanket over them both. "Thought I heard your car."

Cas nodded, "You were right. I did need some time with her."

"Yeah, I know what you need." Dean said softly, leaning into him, "But we need a serious conversation."

"What about?"

"Sam called me... Everything is going really good, just... They're starting to talk about having another baby... Of course, with the paperwork and all that, they can do whatever, but, you know, since..."

Cas squeezed Dean's shoulders, "You didn't seem to have any trouble with the arrangement the first time. If they want another child, and the embryos are still viable, I don't see why they shouldn't."

"Yeah, well, they want to try for a boy, so..." Dean shook his head, "Just, I keep putting it off, but I feel like I owe it to Ben to tell him."

"It's not as though he doesn't know he's related to her, he just doesn't know how closely. If you want to tell him, of course that's between you and them, but if he knows, we run the risk he might say something in front of Emma, something that could be very damaging to a four-year-old."

"Yeah, I don't want that, just... I keep thinking, if they have a boy, if there's a resemblance-"

"Ben looks enough like Lisa, he won't make the connection. And if he does, just point out that they share a set of grandparents, and that is true enough. I would wait until Sam and Jess are ready to tell their children before telling Ben."

Dean nodded, "Yeah, I guess... It's still kind of hard to think about."

"It's not an easy subject, we knew that from the start." Cas replied, "Still, if you're still of the mind to allow it, so am I."

Dean squeezed Cas' leg with a hint of a grin, "You're just thinking where you're gonna get your next baby fix when Melody starts getting big enough to mouth off."

"Yes, well, if I'd gotten enough time with my own child... No, I'd still-"

"Yeah, you'd still love babies, you big softy."

"It seems we have our answer, or at least my side of it. They've been good parents, and they love her dearly... Although I have to admit, every time I've picked her up, it's been hard to put her down." Cas said softly, "You know, I was thinking about it the other day, do you realize I've had more time to be part of Ben's childhood than I did Claire's? Xander, too."

Dean turned slightly to look him in the eye, "We don't have to say yes to this... If it's hard for you, watching Emma getting bigger, little chunk of my DNA running around that's not ours, if another one is gonna hurt-"

"No, Dean. No, I'm... It makes me happy. Our niece is a sweet little girl, and I'm glad she exists. If her parents think she needs a brother, she should have a brother... You really would give the pound of flesh closest your heart to help somebody, wouldn't you?"

Dean shrugged, "That pound is connected, so, that part's yours. Anybody else wants any other part of me, they still gotta go through you. Fill out the paperwork with my body accountant."

"That reminds me, you're about due for an audit."

Dean shot him a look, "Are you sure you're up to that?"

Cas rolled his eyes, "I've let you play it safe for long enough. It's been far too long, and I'm not about to wear that damned heart rate monitor on my finger, either."

Dean shifted in his seat slightly, "Okay, well, if you think you can, safely-"

"Upstairs," Cas growled, "We still have some new gear to break in."

"Yeah, but..." Dean said softly, turning to face Cas, "Just, um... I wanna know, I kept you pretty satisfied, right? While you were recovering?"

As Dean searched his eyes, Cas raised a soft hand to Dean's neck and face, kissing him gently, "Considering how incredibly over cautious you were, yes. Very. But I've been fine for weeks now, and while I might not be lifting you anytime soon, being restricted to supine blowjobs and prostate vibrators while you compulsively watch my pulse is not going to be enough. Not when I already know what you'll let me do to you just because it's Thursday."

"It's Wednesday." Dean whispered.

"It's nearly midnight, and I plan on walking through that bedroom door at twelve-oh-one." Cas replied, checking his watch, "You'd better hurry."

With a reserved nod and something of an involuntary squeak, Dean stood up from the swing, taking the blanket with him, folding it haphazardly as he moved, "The pink ones?"

"Any color you like, they won't be on long."

* * *

Cas set the plate full of bacon down on the table next to the tall stack of french toast as he took another long draw from his coffee mug. With some scuffle, Ben and Xander managed to wolf down a large portion each while loudly discussing their schedules for the day.

"Hey, where's Dad?" Xander asked over his shoulder, addressing Cas, who was still at the stove.

"He's not feeling well. Hopefully, a day off will sort him out, I've already told the school I'm taking a half day." Cas answered.

"Should we save him some?" Ben asked, stuffing two pieces of bacon into his mouth.

"No, I've got a plate for him, you two go ahead. Just don't be late." Cas answered, gesturing for a moment before taking a bite of his oatmeal from the bowl on the counter by the stove, and turning the last slice of toast over in the pan.

As the sound of Ben's car left the driveway, Cas carefully balanced his refreshed cup of coffee, oatmeal bowl, and the plate for Dean, and retreated upstairs. The radio was still going quietly, and he set everything down on the bedside table.

Dean appeared to be asleep, but Cas wasn't sure. His wrists were bound above his head, he was blindfolded, and with earbuds running white noise, he may have been awake but unaware of Cas' presence.

Cas leaned down over Dean's broad, and very sticky torso, sinking his teeth into Dean's nipple slowly, eliciting a pained groan followed by panting as he eased off. He touched Dean's chin gently with his thumb and forefinger in an unmistakable request that he open his mouth, which Dean did obediently, expecting to receive something other than a forkful of food.

After his initial surprise, Dean chewed the large bite of french toast, butter, and syrup with a rather grateful noise of appreciation, "Ohhh, damn... Mm... My sweetheart loves me."

With a silent smirk, Cas snapped the end off one of the pieces of bacon, waiting patiently until Dean's mouth was clear before applying it in the same manner. Dean's tone changed immediately, barely swallowing before struggling at his bonds, "Hold on a second! What the hell, Cas? Are you eating that? God damn it, Cas, you know damn well you're watching your sodium! Seriously?"

Cas rolled his eyes as Dean continued to struggle and attempted to sit up, his thrashing somewhere between hilarious and pathetic as he continued to berate Cas about his diet, dislodging one of the earbuds. Cas caved and pulled the blindfold from Dean's eyes. Dean blinked, unused to the light, but hardly slowed.

"I swear to god, Cas, after all this crap, if you're screwing up your diet-"

Rather than object, Cas shoved a spoonful of warm, and very bland oatmeal flavored only with fresh blueberries into Dean's furious maw, nearly making him gag at the comparatively flavorless mush.

"There are four people to cook for in this house, Dean. There's no reason we all have to suffer." Cas ground out with irritation.

"Sorry," Dean said softly, having choked down the bite of oatmeal, dropping back into place.

"Not sorry enough. Turn over." Cas said firmly, getting up from the bed and watching as Dean moved. He stripped out of the pajama pants and tshirt he wore, moving to kneel behind Dean, reaching below him to give a sharp tug to a tightly fastened strap Dean wore, causing it to break away, "How was that? It didn't look like it was cutting off circulation."

Dean whimpered slightly, shaking his head, "Held me tight, not too tight... Not as good as your hands, though."

Cas gave no warning, plunging into him hard and fast, making Dean yelp, "Louder."

Dean choked on a moan as Cas dragged himself slowly back out of him, unable to comply.

"Dean?" Cas asked, his body still as Dean composed himself.

"More like that," Dean fussed in a broken voice, gripping the headboard tightly.

Cas slid his hands down Dean's hips, reaching below to fondle him as he moved roughly, causing the bed to shake. Dean's voice was steadily building when suddenly a loud snap seemed to echo through the room as the bed dropped away from the headboard entirely, displacing them abruptly.

"Oops." Dean said in the sudden silence.

Cas moved to free his wrists from the headboard, not expecting to hear Dean object, "I didn't say stop."

* * *

Xander had been entirely focused on the practice and had to ask twice for the coach to repeat himself before being pulled from the field. He shook his head in confusion as he asked for yet another repetition of the convoluted rule he'd been informed was stacked against him.

"What does that even mean?"

The coach sighed yet again, "It means you can't play. Not unless the suit is dropped."

"But I didn't do anything." Xander protested.

"A counter-suit is still a suit, and you're named. His son goes to school here, and the guy came in with the student handbook-"

"I don't care. You can't kick me off the field because some guy hit me in the face with my dad's phone. He's the one that got arrested, not me, so, y'know, obviously, I didn't do anything wrong."

"Listen, I know this guy, he's a hot-head, just tell your folks to mediate, and if they drop the assault charge, he'll probably drop his... whatever, and then we can get you on the field. He's probably digging for leverage-"

"He hit me with a phone. It's not even healed up all the way, look-" Xander said, pointing to his lip and chin, leaning closer, "I didn't do anything wrong, but he did. There's nothing fair about this."

The coach shook his head again, "Sorry, kid. A student involved in an assault with charges pending can't participate. The school has these rules for a reason."

"Then the rules need to change," Xander snapped, "Because I didn't do anything to be punished for."

"Call your folks and go home. Get them to complain. I'll back you up, but I can't go in there leading the offensive, okay?" he said a bit more gently, "I'll hold up my side of things, but if you talk your folks into dropping this thing, it'll go faster."

Defeated, Xander nodded.

"You want me to call your pops to come pick you up?"

Xander shook his head, getting out of the chair and headed for the door, "Nah..."

"Stansfield," he asked in a more demanding tone, making Xander turn around, "You got a thick file, okay? One I have to go through regularly. I know your life ain't all it's cut out to be, but are you gonna hang in there, or do I need to call somebody?"

* * *

The red Chevelle swung into the lot with familiar ease, and Xander carefully loaded his gear into the trunk before dropping into the seat next to Claire with a sour expression on his face.

"Ended early today?" she asked.

"They're gonna kick me off the team." Xander answered flatly.

"They just put you on it. Why?"

"Because some asshole came into our shop and busted my face in with dad's phone. He's counter-suing, and since I'm involved, they can't let me play until my parents drop charges and make nice with this... His kid goes here, too, so, he must have dug through the rules and shit, and now I'm out."

Claire was taken aback, "But they can't-"

"Yeah, they can, and they are. And this asshole could drag it out next year, too. I'm screwed. Either I talk my parents into dropping it, or I drop football completely."

"There's got to be a way around it."

"There isn't one. He just doesn't want to go to jail, so he's gonna use anything he can to get out of it... I'm gonna tell them to drop it." Xander said quietly. 

Claire shook her head, "That is crap. He broke a phone on your face. He deserves whatever a judge is going to give him."

"What about me, though?" Xander asked, "I could get hurt worse just playing, and I know damn well after high school I'm gonna be stuck in a dead-end job the rest of my life. I have two years left to have some fun, and this guy... just... It's not fair!"

Xander's voice broke as the stress came to a head, and with a rough movement in the confined space, he punched the dashboard in front of him before Claire grabbed his arm.

"Hey! Okay, no, it's not fair, not at all, but don't take it out on the car."

In frustration Xander slouched in the seat, fighting the tears welling up in his eyes, and stared out the window as Claire put the car in drive and started for home.

After a few silent miles, Claire spoke again, her voice soft, "Okay, so, they drop the charges, then what? This guy goes free? No consequences for hurting you?"

Xander only shrugged as he continued to stare at passing landmarks.

"That's it? He gets off scot-free, and what? Nothing? If he hit you, he's probably hit somebody else. He deserves to go to jail, or get probation, whatever, or some kind of record. You can't tell me it didn't hurt... Okay, fine. You deserve better than the way he treated you. And just because you suck at school doesn't mean you can't do something great with your life. I mean, Alfie dropped out, hasn't affected his career. Maybe not everybody needs a formal education."

Xander snorted, "Right. There's no way you actually believe that, not after all the shit I've heard you tell Ben."

"Ben's dream is medical. He needs it, or he won't be able to do it. But you, well... I mean, what's your plan, anyway?"

"I don't need a plan. I don't want a plan. I'm not good at anything but sports, and I'm going to have to stop after high school anyway. My brain is barely functional now, a few more concussions, you know?"

Claire didn't seem to find it as amusing as Xander did, "When Dean let you try out, you said - you promised - that this wasn't self-destructive... Tell me the truth, because I'll know if you're lying to me. Are you trying to speed that shit up? Or is this just a bullshit thing because you're down right now?"

"What's it to you, anyway?" Xander mumbled.

With something of a growl, Claire snapped, "Because if you scramble your brain on the way out of high school, and need a guardian as an adult, who do you think has to look out for you after our parents are dead? Me and Ben. And if that's your plan, numb the pain by killing a few more brain cells, it's not just you that you're hurting. Not when you could stop right now and be a functional adult."

Claire could hear a shaky rattle to Xander's breath as it was obvious now that he was crying, "That wasn't the plan, it's just... I'm gonna be useless anyway, what's the point?"

"You're not useless. You have things a little harder than everyone else, and you keep kicking ass... I know that can be really tiring, I know it's hard, trust me, I understand, but... At least we're not boring, right?" Claire offered.

* * *

"I just want to warn you," Alfie said quietly as he drove his mother's rental from the airport toward the small town he called home, "My place... It's not anything you'd be comfortable in, okay? But it's perfect for me and Claire, so... Y'know... We're happy there."

"How different could it be?"

"I live in the middle of a junkyard, for one. The house is small, very simple... You'd hate it."

Rachel shrugged, "If it makes you happy, it can't be all that horrible. You're exaggerating to scare me."

"I'm giving you a chance to brace yourself."

Rachel chuckled, "Your wife, does she take cars apart in the living room?"

"Um... sometimes, actually. Parts of them. Small parts." Alfie answered with a shrug.

"And you let her do that?" Rachel's tone changed.

"She's a grown woman in her own home, if she wants to rebuild a transmission in the upstairs bathtub, that's entirely up to her." Alfie objected.

"Not if she respects you."

"She does respect me."

"But does she deserve you?"

"She deserves better than me."

"Does she say that?"

"She would never even think it... She's really sweet, you'll love her. Melody's getting big, we're thinking about getting a dog when she's a little older." Alfie said quietly. It half an attempt to inform his mother of their lives, half talking to himself.

"Get a cat. They're cleaner." 

Alfie shook his head, "Dean's allergic."

"Dean lives with you?"

"No. But we have them over a lot."

"You don't want a disgusting dog."

"Yeah, I do. I love dogs." Alfie answered.

Rachel scoffed and stared out the window for a while before Alfie slowed the car, turning onto the gravel road. She turned to him once again as he spotted Dean and parked equidistant from the shop and the house, where the single garage stood open, the back half of the Monte Carlo sitting on the driveway outside of the small space, guessing immediately where Claire was.

"Do you think she'll be happy you're home early?" Rachel asked.

"She didn't want me to go in the first place, she's going to be very surprised." Alfie confirmed.

Rachel smirked slightly, "I certainly hope so."

Alfie shot her a confused look but let it go, getting out of the car. He quickly pulled his mother's attention to Dean, dragging it away from her distracted gaze as it attempted to blanket the lot, taking in the shop, the house, and the cars that seemed to carry on for miles.

"Mom, this is Dean, one of my father in laws."

Dean quickly shifted the Volkswagen hood he carried to his left, pulling his right hand out of his work glove to shake hers, as he greeted her warmly, "Rachel, it's nice to finally meet you. You know, Melody has this little dent right in the side of the bridge of her nose, Cas and I were talking about it, couldn't figure out where she got it, I guess we know now, huh?"

Rachel fumbled for an appropriate response as Alfie ducked away silently, heading straight for the garage.

Melody's pack and play had been set up in the cool, quiet garage, and she sat happily chewing on a drool covered teether. Coming to the front end of his old car, having been replaced recently with a newer vehicle, almost entirely due to Melody's existence, he found Claire bent at the waist, working at something deep under the hood.

He knew better than to startle her and kept quiet, but the shape of her tight jeans, and the sweat she'd worked up paired with the quiet echo of her work-roughened breath was certainly giving him a challenge.

Claire stood up rather suddenly once she realized he was next to her, still out of breath, "When did you-?"

"Surprise." Alfie replied quickly.

With half a mind to her soiled hands, Claire pulled him close, carefully wrapping her arms around his shoulders as Alfie kissed her softly, holding her just a bit too tight. One of his hands stroked her side lightly as he deepened the kiss before she pulled back with a chuckle, "Hey, after last time-"

Alfie gave a resigned nod, and a somewhat crestfallen glance at Melody, "Yeah... if she ever finds out she was conceived during an oil change-"

Claire cut him off, pulling him close for another kiss, "I missed you. I'm glad you're home."

Melody bounced happily as she looked toward the sound of approaching footsteps as suddenly Dean and Rachel stepped around the other side of the car. Rachel gave them both a disapproving look as Claire sheepishly disentangled herself from her husband. She hurriedly wiped her hand on her jeans to no avail as Rachel stepped closer and gave her the most awkward and cold hug she'd ever received, "So good to meet you, dear."

"Uh, hi," Claire replied as Rachel quickly stepped over to the pack and play, "Um, sorry about the mess, I didn't think-"

"Having the baby out in the filthy garage, though, honestly!" Rachel continued, picking Melody up, lifting her high and taking a close look at her face before settling the girl on her hip.

"How about I go show mom the house while you-... That's not the same engine." Alfie said softly, as Rachel started for the door into the house.

Claire smirked at him, "I've been having fun."

"I bet." Alfie answered, hurrying after his mother, who'd disappeared unbidden through the doorway with their child.

Claire turned back to the car, well aware that Dean was still close.

"She hates my guts."

"Nah," Dean said softly.

"At least a little."

"Yeah, she'll get past it. You're just so friendly... Drugs?" he asked.

"Prescription only. Probably the good stuff." Claire answered, "I'm trying, really, but already, I'm worried."

Dean shrugged, "She won't be here long. The more you chap her ass, the longer until her next visit."

"Yeah, that's what I'm afraid of. It took having Melody to get her to visit her only child... She goes back, doesn't want to visit again, and then what? I can't have that be because of me."

"You still got Dr Thompson's number?"

Claire scoffed.

"You'll be okay, just, y'know, be upfront with him. Guys can't read minds." Dean threw over his shoulder, heading back to the shop.

* * *


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: Happy Turkey Day!
> 
> WARNING: Past rape is mentioned and biological aspects of rape are discussed. Past self-harm, including blood and scarring are mentioned. Crude humor involving self-inflicted genital wounds, fairly minor.
> 
> Please, please, take care of your mental health. It matters, a lot.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Thanks for reviewing! Thanks for putting up with my insane lack of new chapters! FW)

* * *

"Drop the charges?" Dean clarified, "Why the hell would I do that?"

"So I can get back out on the field. I worked really hard for this, Dad. I bust my ass to keep my grades up, and there's no way for me to get back out there with this hanging over my head." 

Dean set his fork down and rubbed his temple, "This asshole clearly has a major anger management problem, and you want to let him walk away from that?" 

"I want to stay on the team! God, I have one good thing in my life right now, and this is it." Xander protested. 

Ben snorted, "If football is the only thing you have going for you, that's a pretty shitty deal." 

"Ben," Dean warned. He glanced at Cas, who seemed to be thinking it over, before turning back to Xander, "Look, I... I just don't know. Okay? Give us some time to think it over." 

"What's to think over?" Xander burst with frustration, "I'm the one who got hit! It should be my decision!" 

"Xander, you're still underage," Cas said calmly, "And you look it, he knew the person he was assaulting was legally a child, and he did it anyway. That deserves serious consequences." 

"Transference, much?" Ben muttered, unintentionally drawing all eyes at the table to himself. He looked up from where he was poking half a brussels sprout around in a circle with his fork to find Cas looking confused and slightly hurt, Dean, hurt and angry, and Xander, seeming to agree with his point, but shocked he'd said it out loud. He swallowed at the lump in his throat but failed to dislodge it, "What?" 

"You think that's funny?" Dean asked sharply. 

"God, no... But it's not like we don't know about it, or that the guy never went to jail. We hear you guys talk, we live here... Just seems like busting a phone in Xander's face is a hell of a lot less of a big deal than... y'know..." Ben said softly. 

Cas' hand shook as he rubbed his temple, a slight stutter evident as he started to piece together a response, but Dean spoke first, snapping at Ben, "Don't. Not now, not ever again! You don't compare any of that to something like this, you got that?" 

Dean hid his immediate regret at the sound of an order in his own voice carrying the same anger and rage he'd heard so often from his own father, too wound up to be reasonable. 

"Dean, I'm sure he didn't mean it like that-" Cas said, reaching for his hand, only to have Dean's frustrated and exaggerated movement make it a pointless effort. 

"Oh, he meant it, or he wouldn't have said it." 

"Dean-" 

"No. You don't have to take that kind of crap from him when he has no idea how much worse that would have-" 

"Dean!" Cas snapped, "Listen to yourself, would you? It was a thoughtless, juvenile comment." 

Ben's cheek flinched slightly at his words, as he avoided meeting anyone's eyes, instead studying the grain of the wooden table. 

* * *

In the dimmed light that managed to pierce the curtains with an off-gold glow, Claire woke gently to the feeling of delicate touches stroking her bare skin. The hands that touched her were intimately familiar with her boundaries and her desires, and carefully accommodated both in an intricate dance.

Claire rolled onto her back as Alfie adjusted his position to her movement. He was sitting up next to her, facing the head of the bed, a shy smile gracing his features as she reached for him. 

"I think we have about half an hour before she wakes up," Alfie whispered. 

Claire had barely given his hand a tell-tale tug as an obvious go-ahead when the sound of the front door opening and closing downstairs immediately made her jump, "What the hell was that?" 

Light, quick footsteps seemed to think they were sneaking up the stairs unnoticed as Claire quickly made for the door, only to have Alfie silently block her, gesturing to her absolute state of undress, as she countered with a frustrated and aggressive gesture toward the bedroom door, normally open to hear Melody, but obviously closed in anticipation of the morning's failed event. Alfie, clad in thin cotton boxers, moved to crack the door open, and leaned through. 

As Claire scrambled for her robe, she heard Alfie address the person in French, with a tone that couldn't have been meant for her father or Kevin, and deduced even before the voice answered, that it was Rachel. 

Claire tied her robe in a flurry and pulled her hair out from the back of the collar as Alfie closed the door, "What's going on?" 

"She said she came over to help, since we don't have a nanny, she thought she'd keep Mel quiet for a bit downstairs, and let us sleep." 

"Oh... Yeah, right, because why wouldn't I want a stranger in my living room, waking up my baby and listening to us have sex. Great." 

"She's not a stranger, she's my mother-" 

"Worse." 

"Claire, it's-" Alfie faltered, "I'm sorry." 

"How did she even get in? I locked the door. I always lock the door." 

Alfie cringed, "She asked me if we had any keys outside, it sounded like she was worried it'd be something obvious, like under the mat." 

"You told her?" 

"I didn't think she'd be over here first thing in the morning!" Alfie hissed in defense. 

Claire gave him a look cold enough to shatter steel when she heard Melody's fuss from what was clearly downstairs, "So just anybody can waltz into her room now? That's okay with you?" 

"Claire," Alfie replied firmly, still between her and the door, "It's _my_ mom. Not yours. Yes, she is a pain in the ass, but you can't treat her like your mother when she hasn't done anything wrong." 

She didn't drop her scowl as she moved past him, flinging the door open and hurried downstairs, catching a surreptitious look at Melody in Rachel's lap in the living room as she made for the coffee pot. 

"You didn't have to get out of bed just because I'm here." Rachel called into the kitchen. 

"No, don't worry about it, I'm always up early," Claire replied, filling the carafe with water, "Either with Melody, or getting everything together for business calls. I have to time those for when she's awake and quiet so there's no surprises." 

"Oh, that's right. You're still working for your father's business." Rachel seemed to coo, standing up with Melody and wandering toward the kitchen. 

Claire didn't like the condescending tone in Rachel's voice, but wrote it off to a possible language barrier, "That's right. It's a big part of my life." 

"And you like cars." 

"Yes." 

"Something of a masculine hobby... You don't like girls?" Rachel asked. 

Claire blinked, unsure of the question, "What?" 

"Nevermind." 

Puzzled, Claire only shook her head and continued to prepare the coffee. 

* * *

After three days of feeling driven out of her own living room despite every objection to the contrary, Claire had excused herself to the shop for a couple of hours. Death by a thousand passive aggressive paper cuts... At least at the shop, she was a valued member of a team, in a position of respected leadership, not a walking womb and milk factory.

Xander had come in to work a shift, as he did sporadically, and Ben had brought his car in to make use of the tools on some maintenance, if only at Dan's persistent nagging. It had been a slow day, and she'd taken a clipboard out to the bays to fill out forms and attempt to catch up with her brothers. Attitude aside, she was genuinely fond of them. 

"What? Why?" she balked. 

"That's what I said." Xander answered, "Then Ben had to go and mouth off about-... It sucks." 

"Mouth off about what?" she asked. Each of the boys avoided her question, "No, seriously, what? What's going on?" 

Ben squirmed slightly, "We're not even supposed to know... About you, before you moved out here." 

"What about me?" Claire asked with a hint of grumpiness, looking back and forth between them. 

With a fumble resembling a physical sputter, Lucas dragged himself out of the pit and made a beeline for the front office, muttering loudly as he went, "Hellllllll, no... I am way too young for this conversation. Probably going to say something and get my ass beat." 

Claire rolled her eyes as he passed her, though she turned back to Ben and Xander with a shrug, "So you mean to tell me you're both typical nosy teenagers who know more than you let on? Huge surprise there... Okay. Yeah, fine. My mother was spending the rent money on drugs, and spent me on rent. Second time it happened, I knew I had to do something, or it was going to keep happening, I just didn't know what. Then, she got this genius idea to use a webcam and sell tickets, so to speak, so I called and told Dad about the drugs, and he showed up first thing the next morning and got me out of there. It's old news." 

Xander shifted uncomfortably where he stood, but Ben looked up from where he was sitting on the cement floor of the third bay, frozen with a brake assembly in his hands, "Wait... You were sixteen when I met you, and you'd been here..." 

"Two years. I moved right before I started high school." Claire answered. 

"Shit." Xander breathed, "Sorry... I'm sorry. We shouldn't have brought this up at all." 

"Why? You think I want to pretend it never happened? I get that you're uncomfortable about this, and you should be, it sucks, but it happened, and I have no reason to be ashamed of it... What does any of that have to do with the assault charges, anyway?" Claire asked. 

"When I said it should be my decision on dropping the charges, um... Ben kind of implied that they were overreacting on this guy considering they never went after that guy at all." 

Claire nodded and took a deep breath, "You had witnesses. You have video evidence. If that guy had put a hand on you, you'd have DNA. Undeniable proof... If, when our folks found out, they'd gone after that guy, what would I have had to back me up? The cops or the lawyers or whoever would have sat me in a room for six hours and convinced me it was all in my head, okay? It's not..." 

Ben turned the assembly over, trying to distract himself, "But what if they are just freaking out over this guy, all because of the one they couldn't do anything about? That's still not fair to Xander." 

Claire glanced down at her clipboard as she thought it over, "Yeah... I guess I could see that... Tell you what, I'll come over tonight and see if I can talk to them. I can't promise anything, but maybe it'll clear things up a little." 

The conversation was dropped almost as abruptly as it had started when the door of the shop swung open and someone was greeted with all the fanfare and applause Randy and Lucas could manage on their own. Curious, Claire left the bays for the dark hallway to find a familiar face. 

"Oh my god!" Claire spouted in mock disgust that did nothing to hide her excitement, and didn't bother to restrain herself as there were no customers present, "You shit! You never said you were back in town!" 

Ivan greeted her with a hug, "Yeah, no, been busy with the girls." 

"Yeah, which girls?" Lucas asked in a snotty tone, only to make Ivan's expression falter for a moment. 

"Very funny." Ivan answered him, turning back to Claire, "Julie's car has something up with the steering, can't put that off, y'know." 

"Yeah, not with kids. What's she drive lately?" Claire asked. 

"It's a Lincoln. Pretty recent, won't be hard to get parts for it." 

Randy scoffed, "We're charging you extra, anyway, just because we had to see your ugly face again." 

* * *

Ben heard it when the door creaked open, but it wasn't unusual. After one particularly bad night a few years ago, a night filled with shed tears, blood, bandages, and promises to keep the thin line on Xander's wrist a secret from their parents, he would never even remotely suggest Xander wasn't welcome.

"Hey, you awake?" 

But that didn't mean Ben was any less grumpy. 

"Wahfuggewwunt, man?" Ben mumbled through his pillow. 

Nick's tail slapped a couple of weak wags against the blanket that covered his feet, but she didn't lift her head at all. Xander dropped to the floor, his back against the side of the bed, close enough to Ben's head that whispers were a perfectly clear conversation in the dim room. 

"Do you think we screwed up? I mean, Dad was pissed last night, and Pops looked really hurt, then Claire coming over here today and just tearing them a new one like that..." 

Ben shifted to clear his mouth from the pillow, "She didn't tear them a new one until after she asked them why they were so dead-set on going after that asshole." 

"Yeah, but she compared it... And Dad said not to." 

"Dad said for me not to. She's on one end of that, you're on the other, I'm pretty sure you guys are allowed to talk about it." 

Xander shifted uncomfortably, "This sucks. I mean, I'm glad she convinced them to try to mediate and shit, but... Now it's all out there, right? I mean, Dad was trying really hard not to say it, and she just said it, just like that, right in front of us. That's never happened before... I don't think anything goes back to how it was, now." 

"How what was? Pretending we didn't know? Seems like she would rather hit that head-on. Hell, for all we know, could be a relief for her." 

"What do you mean?" Xander asked. 

Ben shifted onto his side, "It's not like she didn't have an out, she could have just said her mom was on drugs, she didn't have to say anything about what happened to her, but she did. Unlike Dad and Pops, she just straight-up told us what happened to her. Now that she's the one who brought it up, nobody really has to avoid the whole thing. Less stress on her." 

"They didn't tell us." 

"It's not their business to tell, it's hers. Now that she told it, we can all be adults about it and it's just out there." 

Xander went silent with contemplation for long enough that Ben had started to doze off and was near the edge of sleep when he spoke again, "How bad do you think that hurts, for a girl?" 

"I dunno... Don't really want to think about it." Ben replied, hoping to get back to sleep. 

"Well, just talking biology, right? Girls get wetter and looser if they want sex, if they don't, that same space would be, like, tighter and drier than it should be, right? Probably hurts like a bitch." 

Ben let out an involuntary shudder, "Ugh! Are you really gonna sit there and talk about rape and vag all night?" 

"No, I'm gonna cut my balls off and juggle them," Xander spouted sarcastically, "I can't sleep, okay?" 

"You got what you wanted, they aren't gonna keep pushing to go after this guy. You'll be back in the game and all that crap." 

"They didn't go after the other guy, either... He's still out there someplace." 

"Who?" Ben asked, irritation rising in his voice. 

"The guy that hurt Claire." 

Ben snorted slightly, "Maybe not. You know, after Dad and Pops started dating, Pops took a trip to California for a few days. They said it was to get Claire's custody stuff settled, but who knows?" 

"Serious?" 

Ben made a sleepy noise of affirmation in response. 

"You think he killed him?" Xander whispered in the darkness. 

"Wouldn't you?" Ben asked, not opening his eyes. 

"Assuming he managed to find the guy." 

* * *

Claire had finally given in and put her headphones on in an effort to focus over yet another round of catching up happening in the living room, only interrupted by fussing over Melody. Sometimes she could make out pieces of the conversation, sometimes it was in English, and for a couple of hours, one of Rachel's friends from years ago had stopped by to see her. That had been the most awkward thing that had happened so far, as Claire attempted to get through a pile of tax-related paperwork.

The music wasn't enough to keep Claire from looking up over the kitchen table as Rachel headed upstairs with Melody, and Alfie approached her. Claire settled her headphones down around her neck and sat back in her chair, taking a break. 

"Anything I can do?" Alfie asked. 

Claire smiled slightly at his attempt to be of some assistance, but shook her head. She looked up the stairs, "What's going on?" 

Alfie made a small, dismissive gesture, "Diaper change. She's 'helping,' because we don't have a nanny... By trying to convince us we have no idea what we're doing." 

"Right. Because we have no idea what we've been doing the entire time before she showed up?" Claire turned to look as Rachel came downstairs, and her expression changed immediately. 

Alfie turned around, and spotted the overly fancy dress Rachel had changed Melody into, one that had been a gift from Linda, with pale purple lace they'd later found irritated Melody no end. 

"Woah. Mom, um, here, Mel hates that dress, it's itchy. I'll go change her." Alfie said, stepping closer to take her. 

"She will get used to it. She's a little girl, she can't dress like a slob all the time." Rachel replied with a shake of her head, stepping around him to resume her seat on the couch. 

"A slob?" Claire asked, with a raise of her eyebrows. 

"Oh, you know, dear. All of her clothes are so boring and mannish," Rachel continued, fussing over the dress as Melody pulled at it, "Of course, what can you expect when her so-called mother is a mechanic. Really, you're lucky she's such a sweet baby, but surely Claire would rather have a car than a baby. You can't just fuel them up and leave them sitting in a garage. We'll go shopping tomorrow, I'm going replace Melody's things with clothes that are more appropriate for a girl." 

Alfie was aghast at the words he was registering, but was sure couldn't be conveying the message he'd heard. He turned to look at Claire at the table, who crossed her arms... He knew that look. There was no mistranslation... Crap. 

Claire gave him a very cold look before standing up quietly, and Alfie felt trapped. 

"Mom, that- Her stuff isn't mannish, it's just practical stuff for babies. And there isn't any room to put a whole new wardrobe of clothes in her room-" 

"That's what the garbage is for, Samandriel." 

Alfie's words tripped over his own verbal footing, and behind him, he heard the front door shut quietly as Claire slipped out. He turned to look, finding an empty front hallway, and then back to his mother, where Melody, seated on her lap, promptly vomited her last meal, covering the frilly dress, and the back of Rachel's hand in a thick, chunky, cream colored fluid. 

* * *

Ben had been below the front of his Mustang, begrudgingly working on it in the third bay when he heard the loud slam of a door, and mistook it for a possible gunshot. He scrambled out at once, looking around for the source. Xander was in the front office, and Randy and Lucas had stepped out for a break as Ivan had come by to pick up his wife's car, and he knew they were standing around in the small parking area at the other end of the building.

There was no panicked flurry of action as he'd expected to find, and realized he must have misheard. A car backfiring, maybe? 

Ben turned his attention to the bay door that stood open on the other side of the pit from his location, and realized the small person-sized door of the paint shed swung loose on its hinges, which wasn't right at all, and he could hear something moving around, knocking into things inside. Possibly an animal. 

He set down his ratchet and socket and hurried to the door of the paint shed, concerned when he heard a louder slamming inside, and realized it had to be something larger than a raccoon, but he couldn't stop himself once he'd reached the door, and soon discovered it was Claire. She had thrown a few loose items sitting out, durable items, onto the floor, and was now frantically punching at the inside of one of the sheet-metal walls. 

On instinct, he took her shoulders and pulled her back, only to have her round on him with her fists raised, and no sign of stopping. He threw his hands up in front of him and took another step back in surrender, "Woah! Woah, woah, it's okay, it's me! It's just me! Sorry!" 

Finally getting a look at her face, Ben could see, even in the dim light, that it was tear streaked, and her lip trembled. 

It wasn't that Ben hadn't seen her cry before, but even the first few times it had happened, she'd more closely resembled a roaring beast than whatever this was he saw now. Suddenly her rage seemed far less frightening than whatever had brought her to this point. 

"It's okay," Ben said quietly, "What happened?" 

Claire looked as though she wanted to speak, but shook her head. Ben took a pinch of her sleeve and tugged her into a protective hug, not sure what else he could do, which Claire found incredibly similar to the many times Dean had used a similar tactic. 

Despite her best efforts to compose herself, Claire was still too frustrated for Ben to make out much of what she'd said, and she had to repeat herself. Neither noticed Dean had made his way to the door, listening in. 

"She just-... God, she's such a bitch! Everything I do, she says nothing I do is right, and she-... She called me Melody's 'so-called mother!' She said all the baby clothes are boring and mannish, and it's my fault, like I'm not girly enough, and that I treat her like a car, and I just want to scream at her to shut her fucking face, but if I do that, then when she's gone again-... I just hate her so damn much." 

"Ben, go back to the shop." Dean said firmly, startling them both. 

Ben's initial reaction had been to argue, but after catching a look at Dean's face, he knew better. He patted Claire on the back of her shoulders as he let go, and quickly passed his father in the doorway. 

Claire still seemed shaken by her outburst, and still hadn't entirely sorted out her own emotions on the matter, and wiped at her cheeks, "Tough it out... Right? That's what you're going to say? She'll be gone soon?" 

"Are you freaking kidding me?" Dean snapped, "That bitch is in there badmouthing you, in your own home, and you're gonna come out here and take it? You?" 

Claire was slightly taken aback at his anger, and didn't answer. 

"That's not the Claire I know. My daughter, she wouldn't take any of this bullshit, not for a minute. She'd do what it took to put that bitch in her place. Or did you forget landing your ass in jail, twisting my arm to get company policies changed, and firing Kip without checking with me first?" Dean continued. 

"I can't! Not this time!" Claire burst in frustration. 

"Bullshit!" Dean bellowed back, "You yell at me and Cas all the time, and usually, you're right!" 

"But Alfie-" 

Dean shook his head as he cut her off, "If your husband isn't going to stand up for you, you still have to stand up for yourself. Even from her, and even if it's not nearly as bad as your mom, you still have to stand up for yourself. If he doesn't like that, he can go live with her, because you're supposed to be queen of the castle and head bitch in charge, and as your mother in law, she's supposed to respect that, and he's the one who's supposed to remind her. Honestly, I'm about two seconds from going over there and reading him the riot act for putting up with this crap. Now get your ass back in there and give her hell. Trust me, she's earned it." 

Claire steeled herself as it became clear that Dean's harsh tone was meant to encourage her, and with a few deep breaths and a nod indicating her readiness to head back into the fray she'd been skirting for days, she started home. 

* * *


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: Woo! That went fast! And also, way more stuff happened than I thought was going to happen, yikes...
> 
> I said forever ago that I built the three main buildings of DRR in Sims3, and I did eventually put it on youtube. Here's a link if you want to see what I see in my head, mostly. <https://youtu.be/bYCGR8k7T-k> I built Alfie's house and Ivan's trailer circa TBL, and fleshed out the shop a bit more as well, but I don't have a video tour for those. I can't remember if I made Linda's house.
> 
> I re-read at different points in the series regularly, to try to keep the story on track, and I have so many typos it's incredibly annoying, not to mention mistakes like Jack's dad's name, and the name of Cas' school. I have a feeling I'll be compulsively re-editing when this is all over... If it's ever over, idk...
> 
> Thank you all for the comments/reviews/kudos, I gobble those greedily. Thanks for reading! FW)

* * *

Alfie shook his head at his mother's objections, "You're too hard on her. She's a great mother, of course you're not going to see that, the way you've been hogging Melody the whole time! And if you're so concerned about her not being feminine enough, fine, I'll start wearing dresses, okay? But Claire's work is important to her, and it doesn't matter what she does, it matters that that's what she loves to do, so, just, y'know, get off her case."

Rachel bounced Melody gently as she started to fuss, now cleaned up and dressed in a pair of footed pajamas, entirely pastel pink, "Of course, yes, I should get off her case. Because why shouldn't my granddaughter grow up to act like a boy?" 

"Mom, she's not going to act like a boy. You're being ridiculous." 

Rachel paced slightly, "I am not ridiculous, the house is barely safe for a baby, and your wife had her out in the garage when we got here. She's an idiot. A mannish idiot, who can't care for a little girl properly." 

"Mom-" Alfie started, but was cut off as the front door opened, and just as quickly, closed again. Claire came in with her head high, cheeks dry, but a telltale red rim graced each of her eyes. She barely looked at him as she came past the stairs. 

Melody's fuss became much louder at the sight of her mother, reaching for Claire with one arm, before Rachel turned around to get her to retract the arm. 

Breaking the awkward silence, Claire shrugged, "Okay, fine, I'll start... I'm done being the only one playing nice." 

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean." Rachel replied. 

"Yeah, you do. Now I'm exhausted, it's Melody's nap time, and I don't want any push-back throwing off her routine like the last three days." Claire answered, stepping closer to take her from Rachel, who narrowed her eyes and tried to step away. 

Claire took a firm hold of Melody's ribs, but refusing to subject her tiny daughter to a tug-of-war, looked Rachel firmly in the eyes, and growled, "I have fractured a grown man's jaw for a lot less, so you'd better let go." 

After a moment's attempt at a stare-down, Rachel released Melody, mumbling about violent Americans, and sat down in a heavy sulk. Claire heard some sort of quiet admonishment from Alfie, but it didn't register as she froze with her foot on the bottom stair, looking into the kitchen, "What the hell is that?" 

In the top of the garbage, along with the pale purple lace dress was an old golden colored teddy bear with a red bow at it's throat. 

Alfie seemed quite a bit paler as he shrugged helplessly, "Mom said the eyes could come off, and it's a choking hazard." 

"Well, 'mom' is right about that," Claire snapped, "That's why it was one the highest shelf where Melody would never be able to reach it! It's the only thing I have from my room at my dad's house from the three weeks before my life officially went to shit, and you let her throw out my fucking bear?" 

Alfie's presence was normally enough to sooth Claire' rage, but this seemed to be one of those occasions where he'd do best to get out of the way. He was thankful when after a moment, she turned to Rachel, who was trying to hold her composure and at the same time, talk down to Claire about how wrong she was, but Claire quickly raised her voice to drown her out, "No. You don't go into someone's home and throw away things that are clearly meant to be kept. You know exactly what you did, so save it. If you can't respect me and my things while you're in my house, you shouldn't be here." 

Claire started up the stairs as Rachel called after her, "My son's house, you mean." 

Claire stopped long enough to call back down, still enraged, "The name on the deed is Winchester, bitch. It was my grandfather's before that. If he wants a divorce, I'm not the one moving." 

At the mention of a word Alfie hadn't heard Claire speak since their prenuptial agreement had been signed years ago, and the small slam of the bedroom door, his heart gave a lurch. 

"Samandriel, really... How can you tolerate that kind of behavior? What is Melody going to-" 

"Mom, you need to go." Alfie said quickly, "I'll try to get her to calm down, but I told you you were pushing her, and you didn't listen." 

"Honestly! I didn't raise you to-" 

"Mom... I can't do this right now. I will call you tomorrow, okay?" 

With a huff and muttering under her breath, Rachel collected her purse, and started for the door, "What time will we be taking Melody tomorrow? I don't want Claire to come along, she'll scream and swear, and scare the baby." 

"Melody's not going anywhere, she doesn't need a damn ballgown when she can't even walk. Now I have to try to fix things with my wife. I will call you tomorrow, and let you know how it goes." Alfie repeated. 

* * *

Dean waited patiently outside the bar until he caught sight of his brother walking around the corner from the parking lot, and gave him a wave.

Curious, and somewhat concerned, Sam approached him quickly, his anxiety obvious in his eyes even as they embraced. 

"Okay, I can't leave you hanging," Dean chuckled as they headed for the door, "I talked it over with Cas, and you and Jess have our total support." 

Sam let a smile spread across his face as he relaxed visibly, "You couldn't have told me that over the phone?" 

"What? As hard as it is to get you out for a beer? No way." 

"The whole dog and pony show. Yep." Sam said with a laugh, "Just to get me to come hang out?" 

"Yeah, well, you're good at making excuses. That's how you managed to go without cleaning your room for three months that one time," Dean replied. 

Presently they found themselves seated, and Dean was having a difficult time not beaming at his brother's smile. 

"So, how're the kids? And the grandkid?" 

Dean nodded, pulling out his phone to pull up the latest pictures of Melody, "Well, Xander's playing football, sort of, Ben's got a new girlfriend, who's younger than him, but in college, so that was a big, uh... Well, we had a misunderstanding about that." 

"College girls, huh?" Sam laughed, "That's good, though. That shows he's into more than just a pretty face, right?" 

"Yeah, well, she might have that, too, I haven't met her yet," Dean answered, turning his phone around to show Sam the picture of Melody, her happy grin showing off both of her teeth, "Alfie said he wasn't going anywhere for six months, got roped into a trip to New York City, and came back with his mom. Claire's _thrilled._ " 

Catching Dean's sarcasm easily, Sam shook his head, "Ouch. So how long is he on the couch for? Or is he allowed back in the house yet?" 

"I have no idea, I just know Rachel's busting Claire's chops on anything and everything. Apparently nobody ever told Claire she didn't have to put up with that kind of crap... Cas is getting everybody together tomorrow night, so we'll see how it goes." 

"Now, she met you before, right? When Alfie crashed his bike?" Sam asked. 

Dean shook his head, "No, that was Naomi, his aunt. Rachel didn't want to make the flight all the way from France." 

"I thought you said he almost died? I mean, I know she missed the wedding, but-" 

Dean made a frustrated gesture. 

"Wow... I mean, my whole career, I've seen some pretty shitty examples of parenting, but... damn." Sam said, raising his bottle of beer to his lips just as a woman with flowing dark locks suddenly tumbled into Dean's lap, and quickly claimed his mouth, making him sputter. 

"Hi, Meg," Dean said, pushing her back to gain a few inches distance, "Somebody getting persistent?" 

"You could say that," she purred, raising a hand to his hairline, despite the fact that his hair was generally too short to effectively play with. 

Dean gestured across the table, "Meg, you remember Sam, right? My brother?" 

With a tipsy yet dark chuckle, she turned her head to look, then back to Dean, "Oh, that's right. And here I thought the old ball and chain let you off the leash sometimes." 

Dean shook his head, "Not me, I like the ball and chain." 

"So boring," Meg groaned, "What about your ball and chain, you let him off the leash?" 

Sam's eyebrows shot up as Dean shook his head in confusion, but as Meg cast a lustful look to Sam, Charlie spotted them, and tugged Meg's arm, trying to get her out of Dean's lap, "Meg, you said you wouldn't do this tonight," she hissed quietly. 

Meg turned to Dean, her voice dripping as Charlie's efforts began to make progress, "Can you believe this cute little ginger bitch has never taken a dick? Not a flesh and blood one, anyway." 

Charlie looked mortified and let Meg's arm drop as her expression quickly changed to one of hurt. 

"How many have you had, Meg?" Dean asked quickly. 

"Not enough." Meg answered with a huff, and gracefully got up from Dean's lap, starting for the other side of the bar. With an embarrassed and apologetic look at the brothers, Charlie turned and followed after her. 

After a moment's reflection on the odd event, Dean turned back to Sam, "So, how about you guys? Jess and Emma, how are they doing?" 

"Seriously?" Sam asked, jerking a thumb in the direction Meg had gone, "I mean, what the hell was that?" 

"Imminent break up, looks like. Or at least, I hope so. Not that I don't owe Meg big time, but, y'know, obviously she's not good enough for Charlie." 

Sam scoffed and shook his head, "You know she was throwing herself at you, right?" 

"Oh, was that what that was?" Dean asked with an eye roll. 

* * *

Claire woke several hours later to the sound of the kitchen sink running a floor below her. Melody was clearly in a deep sleep, and she got up from the bed carefully, as not to wake her, and started downstairs.

The sun had set some time ago, and the living room was dark. Turning the corner into the kitchen, Claire found Alfie at the sink, straining over some task, the pale purple lace dress, still damp, draped over an open door of a lower cabinet, and something heating in the oven. The table was set, and Alfie hadn't seemed to notice her presence. 

With an irritated look at the kitchen trash can, she found only an empty bag, and not wanting to ask, she pulled out a chair at the table and sat down sideways, leaning one arm over the back of it. 

Alfie turned slightly, a guilty look on his face, and raised the sopping teddy bear out of the sink just enough that she could see what it was, "I'm trying... I found some stuff online, but I might have to take it to an upholstery cleaner." 

Claire gave only a disinterested shrug, and rubbed at one eye. She had been concerned what his reaction would be for going off on his mother, but at the same time, she'd unleashed on him as well, and he still wore the look she'd left him downstairs with, hours before. The look of a kicked puppy. 

Alfie shut off the water and gave the bear a thorough squeeze, leaving it in the sink as he stepped to the stove, removing a pre-packaged frozen dinner from the oven, and setting it on the table. 

The silence of the darkened house weighed heavily on both of them for several minutes after he sat down, as Claire hadn't moved. He settled a hand on her knee, "I'm sorry." 

"I don't want to do this right now." she whispered. 

"Still, you need to eat." 

"Don't tell me what I need." 

With a defeated nod, Alfie retracted his hand, and sat back in his chair, "I didn't think any of this was going to happen, y'know? ...I thought she'd just be happy to see her grandchild for a few days, not come in here and try to run the place." 

Alfie scooped a portion of the frozen dinner onto the plate in front of Claire's chair, even as she stared aimlessly into the kitchen, and the silence resumed. 

Claire slowly turned to face the table, and began to eat as Alfie kept quiet, and did the same. 

"So..." Claire said softly after several minutes, "If she can throw you away like she did with the bear, how long until Melody gets the same treatment from her?" 

Alfie felt his heart wrench at the truth of her words, and it must have been evident on his face. 

"I'm not saying it to be a bitch, I'm worried," Claire continued, "She wouldn't come out here when you were a minor, nearly died, and had no idea if you were going to be able to walk. Her only kid, and she didn't come home... That shredded jacket, the one you threw in her closet? She hurt you. I don't want Melody to get hurt like that." 

"I don't want that, either." 

"Then why is she here? We both know, as much as it sucks, she didn't come to visit you, or meet me. She's only here for Mel, and once she gets bored-" 

"Maybe you're right, I don't know. But I don't really want to talk about it right now." 

Claire scoffed, and muttered under her breath, "Ostrich, meet sand." 

"I am not-" Alfie started angrily. 

"The hell you aren't!" Claire answered, tossing her fork onto her half empty plate and starting for the stairs, "God, I am so fucking done right now, I can't even think straight. Do whatever you want, but you bring her back here, she has to behave herself. I'm not taking anymore crap from either one of you. If she hurts your feelings again, whine about it to somebody else, because I told you so." 

* * *

After another hour of catching up, Dean and Sam parted ways in the parking lot with another hug, and Dean started for his car at a far corner of the lot. Approaching it, he found Charlie sitting on the trunk.

As he got closer, even in the dimly lit light, it was obvious that her minimal eye makeup had been smudged, likely a careful attempt to hide tears. 

"Don't tell me she left you here," Dean said softly. 

"She's... going through some stuff." Charlie answered, "She'll settle down in a couple of weeks, and everything will mellow out." 

Dean nodded, "Yeah, funny how things are cyclical like that. She'll apologize, swear it'll never happen again, and I bet you pinpointed the next time she'll get like this, huh?" 

Charlie refused to meet his eyes, "It's not like that." 

"You're in an abusive relationship, and you need to leave." Dean said quietly, sorting out his keys. 

Charlie shook her head, "Meg would never hurt me, not ever." 

"Charlie," Dean said, waiting to be sure she was looking at him this time, "You're in an abusive relationship, and you need to leave." 

Charlie's lip trembled slightly as tears threatened to return, "Can you drop me off at my place?" 

With a sigh Dean nodded, "Yeah, sure." 

Piling in and getting onto the road, Charlie was quiet, likely composing herself mentally. Half way to her apartment, Dean spoke up, "So... You know how this looks, right?" 

"It probably looks like exactly what it is." Charlie answered, staring out the window at the passing buildings. 

"So she's pressuring you to do stuff you don't want to do... There's a line you don't want to cross, and she's pushing you, not taking no for an answer..." Dean said, pulling up to a red light. 

"Pretty much. I don't think it'd matter so much if she wanted to add another girl to the mix, but, and no offense to your gender, but, gross. Makes my stomach churn just thinking about it," Charlie said quietly, "She says I'm over reacting, and I'll get used to it. I don't know, maybe she's right, and I just need to bite the bullet and take one for the team. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad." 

"Yeah, right... Tell you what, I got a kiss from your girlfriend tonight, you want it back? Just to check? I'm sure, given the situation, Cas won't mind." 

Charlie noticed the lights beginning to change, and turned on the bench seat, quickly raising onto one knee, taking the further side of his face in her palm and kissed him softly. She settled back into her seat as the light changed to green, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as Dean turned his head slightly to hide an amused smirk before straightening his face as he pulled the car forward. 

"Don't get me wrong," Charlie said quietly, "I can see what Cas likes about you, but, yech!" 

"It's the whiskers?" Dean asked. 

"Probably, yeah. And the rest of the whole being-a-guy thing." 

Dean shrugged, "Just what's she pushing for, anyway?" 

"Full on contact sport, she wants to watch... I just... I can't do it." 

"No, I mean, why? You two have been together this long, why does she want to screw that up? Obviously it makes you uncomfortable." 

"She says she needs it, and she throws it out there like, 'if you really loved me, you'd do it.'" 

"If she really loved you, she wouldn't put it that way, that's for sure." 

Dean pulled into a parking space and turned the lights off, just as two shadows crossed the shades of a window in the ground floor apartment closest to them. 

"Oh my god." Charlie groaned, hiding her face in her hands as the tears started again. There was another movement of the shadows in the window before they disappeared again, their actions obvious. 

"Something tells me this isn't the first time this has happened," Dean said quietly, "So, there's a couch at my place..." 

In an attempt to steer the conversation with humor, even through the small sobs, Charlie laughed, "Great, then if I have a bad dream I can come snuggle up between you and Cas." 

Dean shrugged slightly, "Why not?" 

"I, um... I need to get some stuff, though, and, uh..." she indicated the window of the apartment, and another round of heartbreak was clear on her face. 

Dean turned off the engine, "I'll come in with you." 

"You don't have to-" 

"Yeah, I really do," Dean answered, "There's a naked guy in your bed that you don't want to be there. Safety in numbers. Now, lets go fuck up somebody's night." 

* * *

Meg pressed the young man down into the mattress, and thrust her hips down hard before shaking her hair out of her face, "What did you say your name was, again?"

"Um, Gary..." he said with a pant. 

"Oh, right." Meg said quietly before tangling her hand in his hair, "Still no word from my girlfriend, but if she gets a ride home, maybe we can make this a party. I don't mind cranking out a few first, but pace yourself." 

Gary nodded, seemingly excited by the prospect. 

The front door creaked open quietly as Dean and Charlie both entered with a slight jingle of keys, and from the open bedroom door, they could both hear Meg's voice clearly, "Come on in here, baby, I got us a new toy to play with." 

Charlie seemed to gag on nothing but before she could take a step forward, Dean held up a hand to signal her to stay put. Charlie nodded, and watched as he made for the door as sounds of movement echoed in the crunch of bedsprings and voices of distracted need. 

Dean took his chance as the man's head was thrown back, eyes closed, to step to the foot of the bed, behind Meg, who hadn't seen him slip into the room. Dean settled a hand on Meg's shoulder, and with the other, took hold of the back of the man's calf, before pressing Meg to the side. As she slowed and turned, catching sight of him, she jumped suddenly, startling the man below her, "What the fuck?" 

"I thought you were picking up a girl this time?" Dean asked in a disinterested voice. 

"Oh, shit. Oh, shit, no. No, no, I didn't sign on for that." Gary said, panicked, as he quickly shrunk away, trying to cover his condom-clad genitals with a pillow, despite the fact that Dean still had hold of his leg. 

"C'mon, man, it's just a threesome. Why'd you come back with her if you weren't up for that?" Dean asked. 

"Dean! Get the hell out! That's not funny!" Meg yelled. 

Dean shrugged as Gary kicked free of his hand. 

"You said you had a girlfriend!" Gary sputtered to Meg as he searched for his shed clothes in a rush. 

"Baby, I can be whatever you want me to be," Dean answered with a smirk. 

Meg's enraged flush spread from her face and neck halfway down her breasts, "You are such an asshole! Where's Charlie?" 

Dean couldn't help but laugh as Gary awkwardly hurried from the room, shutting himself in the bathroom and locking the door, "C'mon, baby, don't be like that." 

"Dean, I swear to god-" 

Charlie crept in behind Dean, going straight to the closet and grabbing a duffel from the shelf above the bar. Meg fixed her with a stare, "Great... that's just great. Do you know how weak you are, Charlie?" 

"Shut it." Dean warned. 

"You have no idea how good you've got it with me, everything I do for you," Meg continued, ignoring him, "I don't ask for much, you know. And you, with your constant 'maybes,' and 'thinking about it,' but when it comes right down to it, it's always 'no.' Every time." 

"And that's fine, she can say no to anything she wants. You're an asshole to keep pushing," Dean answered. 

"I am not speaking to you!" Meg snapped, pulling on a long shirt, "So unless you're bringing a minimum nine inches to the table, you can shut up!" 

Meg rounded on Charlie, who hung her head, "I am sick of your idea of compromises. Since you're grabbing your shit anyway, that's fine. Go. You're worthless to me, anyway." 

Meg stalked out of the room quickly, brushing past Dean rudely as Charlie's shoulders began to shake. Dean had never hit a woman in his entire life, but he'd never been more tempted. 

He had to admit, had he ever heard the same thing from a lover or spouse, and certainly being called worthless enough times by his father, he wouldn't have made it to the car without a few tears, but Charlie managed it somehow. 

They nearly made it out of the parking lot before she was cracking jokes, trying to hold it together. 

* * *

Cas looked up as the bedroom door opened, and looked at the clock, "That must have been a long conversation."

"Yeah, well, I had to stop at Charlie's for a threesome," Dean answered with a shrug, and shed his jacket. 

"A what?" Cas asked, sure he must have misheard. 

"You know what you said about Meg? That something was obviously going on?" 

Cas' voice dropped, "You didn't." 

"Of course I didn't, it's me!" Dean insisted quietly, "But what I did do, and don't get pissed at me, is I got Charlie to come crash on the couch, and gave Meg a taste of her own medicine while we were picking up some of her stuff, so hopefully, it's over." 

Cas started to speak, but a phone with an unfamiliar ringtone began to ring, and Dean silenced it quickly before checking the number. 

"Why do you have her phone?" Cas asked. 

"Picked her pocket... Don't look at me like that, you know Meg's going to try to apologize, and in a month they'll be back to this," Dean said, before answering the phone, "Yeah, what? ...No. No, I am not going to put her on... Good luck with that, you can barely find your way to the gas station without a GPS, and it's across the street from you, you'll never find your way out here in the dark. Also, you get past the shop, and technically you're on private property, so... Shut up, Meg." 

"Give me the phone." 

With an exasperated look, Dean passed Cas the phone, and he immediately put it to his ear. 

"...on the goddamn phone, or I swear, I'm coming over there and-" 

"Meg?" 

"Cas... Did your boytoy tell you what he was doing in my bedroom tonight? I call tell you this, he got an eyefull." 

"What do you want?" he asked. 

"I wanted to speak to my girlfriend, but somehow you ogres have her phone. I can only assume she's in danger, as I can't reach her, so put her on, or I'm calling to report her missing." 

"Call them. People don't generally pack a bag when they're being kidnapped." 

"You've got an answer for everything, don't you?" Meg asked with an oddly smug voice. 

Cas pressed the button on screen to end the call, and turned off the phone, heading for the door as Dean started for the bathroom, only to backtrack and try for a kiss, surprised when Dean pulled back, "What else happened?" 

"It's been a busy night, I'll tell you later," Dean answered, jerking his head toward the door, "Go. She needs a shoulder." 

* * *


	13. Chapter 13

* * *

Alfie rolled out of bed to a sound he couldn't quite place, and hurried downstairs. Standing behind the couch at the edge of the living room, he was suddenly even less sure than before that he was properly awake, because standing on a chair at a blank expanse of wall, Claire was drilling a pilot hole with a cordless drill, while wearing a set of lingerie she hadn't put on since before Melody was born.

Claire's fingers deftly switched out the bit for a screwdriver head, and soon there was a properly mounted picture hook installed in the wall. 

"What, um...?" Alfie asked through his still sleepy haze, taking a moment to look her over twice to be sure he was seeing what he thought he was seeing, "I'm really confused right now..." 

"Is that right?" Claire asked nonchalantly. 

Alfie nodded, "Well, just, usually, you put that stuff on because I've been a good boy... And I haven't, so... I'm sorry, I guess the real question is, did you have something you needed me to do to you?" 

"Nope," Claire answered, setting the drill aside, and picking up a large frame, hanging it up on the wall, "No, I'm still pretty pissed off. Just wanted to make sure you got a damn good look... Something to think about the next time your mother calls me 'mannish,' or 'masculine,' or 'frumpy.'" 

The frame held a newer print of the phoenix picture, one that he'd put together after the original had been damaged while moving into Bobby's old house. He'd framed it himself, and normally, it hung in the master bathroom. 

"I'd be lying if I said that wasn't going to work..." Alfie replied, drinking in a long look at her thighs, "Why the poster?" 

"My poster, my house, I'll keep it where I want it, and I want it in the living room," Claire replied firmly, taking the chair back to the kitchen table. 

Alfie nodded, "So, you want privacy? Keep her from coming over?" 

"No." Claire answered with a too-innocent shake of her head, "She can come over." 

Alfie rubbed at his face, and tried to tear his attention away from what little Claire was wearing, "I'm pretty sure I'm missing some part of this..." 

"It's not the poster you're staring at, because the poster isn't about sex, it's about my soul, remember? And about how you feel about me. Right? Scars and all, and it's beautiful. Kevin and Margaret, and once on accident, my dad, even, have all seen it, and it actually hasn't bothered me at all, so, there it is, right in the damn living room, to remind anyone who might wonder, that I am a badass bitch with inner beauty, and that that is how you see me." Claire replied, stepping closer to him. 

Alfie ran a bit of the flowing sheer fabric of her loose negligee through his fingers, giving a nod while taking a dry swallow, trying to imply that he'd understood all of it, "And you're sure you didn't need me to do something to you?" 

"Make coffee," Claire answered with a hint of an unamused smirk, "I have to go in to work today, or I'm going to lose my damn mind." 

She was a bit surprised to find some comfort in watching his face fall, but he tore his eyes away and started for the kitchen, "Yeah, okay." 

* * *

Margaret stared out the window at the mountains in the distance, hardly reacting at all as Kevin moved to stand behind her, kissing the side of her neck gently, settling his hands on her hips.

"Sorry the room service sucks... and the phone service sucks... But hey, we saw buffaloes." 

"The plural of buffalo is buffalo," Margaret answered. 

"What's the plural of hot? No, you know what, nevermind. We were in the car for like, three days getting out here, so, what do you want to do today?" 

Margaret rolled her eyes. 

"I'm serious. Mini grand canyon? Old Faithful? Paint Pots?" 

"I'm still kinda tired from Medicine Wheel... Probably the elevation." 

Kevin shrugged, "We wouldn't have had that problem at the beach." 

"There's a moose." 

"At the beach? I doubt it." 

"No, over there, in the trees." Margaret put her fingertip to the glass. Kevin roughly followed her direction, and saw something large moving in the branches. 

"Wow... We should take it home and keep it for a pet." 

Margaret shook her head, "No, I told you, we're getting a badger." 

"But I want that one." Kevin whined halfheartedly. 

"That one won't fit any of the pet doors at the pet store. You have to pick something else." 

"Ug, fine, okay... If we switch the pool to saltwater, we could get barnacles." 

Margaret wandered away from the window as Kevin continued to watch the moose, picking up the brochures he'd taken from the front desk when they'd checked into the lodge, "Barnacles are probably high maintenance. Let's just take home a geyser instead, it'll go off on it's own." 

"Yeah, and with that much boiling water around, Mike won't have to wait as long for mac and cheese." 

Margaret chuckled in spite of herself, shaking her head. 

"Okay, we need an activity. We didn't come all the way here to hang out in the room," Kevin said softly, coming away from the window, "So where are we going?" 

"Isn't there like, a hot springs or something we can get in?" 

Kevin caught a plaintive tone in her voice and watched her reflection on the glass as she stretched out on the bed on her stomach, her ankles and feet hanging over the side, still flipping through the brochures. Kevin stepped back to the bed, climbing over her to straddle the back of her thighs, and began digging his thumbs into the back of her shoulders. She made a small sound of protest, but didn't bother to stop him, "Jeez, you're like one giant knot. How do you even get out of bed?" 

Margaret didn't answer, letting her head drop forward. 

"Okay, I am definitely not putting my hands on you enough, if it's this bad." 

Margaret mumbled something into the blanket. 

"What?" 

"Your hands always hurt from work. Of course I'm not going to ask." 

Kevin scoffed, "Priorities, babe. I can cut my hours a bit, I can't put up with you when you're in pain, that's probably half the crap we're going through right now, all stress... Okay, I gotta do this right, take off your clothes." 

"No. Then I have to get dressed again. I wanna see the paint pots." 

"Mags, babe, I can feel the knots in your legs with my ass, you won't be able to walk the path if we don't handle this." 

"Bullshit. You just want my clothes off." 

"Added bonus, not complaining, however..." Kevin lifted himself onto his knees, slipping a hand below him, pinpointing one of the knots he'd mentioned, making her gasp, "See? Telling the truth. Not that you aren't the hottest ball of stress I've ever seen, but I need at least half an hour to torture it out of you. So, hurry up and get naked." 

Margaret shook her head, "Let's just go, you can do that later." 

"Look, you can take 'em off, or I can growl in your ear a bit and they'll fly off spontaneously, but we both know which one is going to take longer." 

Margaret wore a smirk as she carefully and gracefully turned below him, settling onto her back, but her happy expression quickly faded and was just as soon replaced with an air of indifference and worse, annoyance, as her gaze found his face. 

"Move." 

Confused, Kevin complied immediately, landing to her side as she got up from the bed, "Okay, why are you mad at me all of a sudden?" 

"I'm still pissed off at you for screwing around with my job. That level of angry's not just going to go away, y'know." 

Kevin shrugged quickly, "Great, back to square one. Okay, fine, tell me what I should have done instead. Or, better yet, tell me, how, in a million years, was that not my call to make?" 

Margaret shook her head as she hurriedly put her shoes on, "I don't want to strain my weak, female brain trying to tell you how to do your job." 

"That's just it, though, right? I do my job. You do your job, but part of my job is making sure the rules get followed, and you were breaking them." Kevin reasoned, "And we came up here to unwind, remember?" 

Margaret stood, grabbing the lightweight backpack she'd taken to carrying instead of a purse for the trip, and started for the door, "Just drop it. Are you coming or not?" 

At the lack of any response for longer than she'd anticipated, Margaret turned her head, hand still on the knob of the open door, only to find Kevin staring at her with a resigned look on his face, "One of us has to quit." 

"What the hell are you talking about?" 

Kevin made no move to get off the bed, "Look, I absolutely understand the whole fear, panic, gear-up and throw-down response was about circumstances outside of work, has to do with your dad, but aside from that... I've made decisions about the shelter that you didn't agree with before, and stuff got strained. This is just going to keep happening and get worse every time. It's not an equal work relationship, it can't be, because the organization has to have someone making the tough choices, somebody has to lead. But it's fucking up the equality in our personal lives, and I don't think we can keep going like this." 

"Are you... are you trying to fire me?" 

"No-" 

Margaret slammed the door shut in anger, "What the hell-" 

"Did you not listen to a damn thing I just said?" Kevin asked standing up quickly, "The stress is killing our relationship. I can't be your boss anymore, even if it's indirectly." 

"And why should I have to be the one to quit?" Margaret snapped. 

"Then I'll quit." Kevin answered with a shrug, "Or step down, sort of. I'll keep working at the salon, and setting people up for intake, but they'll probably just shift the whole thing over to you." 

"This is a load of crap." 

"It's not." 

"Claire and Alfie work together-" 

"That's different. Their personalities, it's... They don't have the same dynamic we have, you know that. They work because they need each other. You and me, we only get along when we're on the same level, nobody's holding any kind of power over the other person, and we're together because we choose to be." 

A few frustrated tears welled up in Margaret's eyes, "Yeah, but what if they replace you with somebody else? Not me." 

"Then you'll finally be able to complain about that stuff at home," Kevin said with a chuckle. 

"No, then we'd lose the big paycheck you get for doing next to nothing, and we'd have to completely redo our budget." 

"Not if they pick you to replace me, which would be a hell of a lot more likely, because you already know the place inside and out, and you've been busting ass there for years. They know you get shit done." 

Margaret shook her head, "There's no guarantee, and Alfie's not involved enough to pull those kinds of strings anymore. It's just the kind of dick move any big company would pull on their pet nonprofit." 

"Then I guess I put in more hours at the salon, drop my walk-ins to one a day, and do intake prep on personal time. Flipside, however, if I keep doing what I'm doing, we stay flush, and you have all the time in the world," Kevin said softly, putting his hands on her shoulders and giving a gentle squeeze to overly tight muscles, "... to find a career that doesn't do _this_ to you." 

"The turnover rate is so high- I can't just leave." 

"It's high because it's so hard to be there, babe. That's never going to change." 

Margaret pressed her forehead to his chest as he worked his fingers in firm circles, traveling up the back of her neck. "What if I leave and the whole shelter falls apart?" she asked softly. 

"Then it falls apart... But if you don't look after yourself then it'll fall apart anyway, because that place, as necessary as it is, is draining the life out of you. You did a lot more than anyone else to keep it afloat, time to let it sink or swim." 

Margaret lifted her head to meet his eyes with skepticism, "So you weren't really going to step down?" 

"Mags, I got myself neutered for you. I'm gonna push for you to go someplace that's not going to put you in a damn loony bin, but say the word, I'll call Crowley right now, and tell him I'm done." 

* * *

Cas barely noticed the quiet footsteps on the stairs, and small sounds coming from the kitchen, but the sound of the front door was much louder from his place on the couch. He was reclined on one arm of the couch, and Charlie had curled up with him, they hadn't meant to fall asleep.

He opened his eyes to find Claire in her work clothes, a rather amused look on her face as she passed the couch, heading for the kitchen. 

"Damn, Dad," Claire whispered loudly, as not to wake Charlie, "Now I get a whole new round of picking on you about that time Kevin came over. You tramp." 

Cas rolled his eyes and gently began to untangle himself as she went into the kitchen, and he could hear her speaking quietly with Dean. 

"Ben left the Mustang in the bay, do you have an extra key for it, or should I wake him up and make him handle it?" 

"He didn't leave the keys?" 

"No. And he even told Randy he was done working on it, so he left a completed repair on a personal car in my way." 

Dean gave an unintelligible grumble, "Nah, I guess let him sleep. I'll get on his case about it later... Oh, hey, how'd things go yesterday?" 

"I put my foot down, threw a temper tantrum, offered to fracture her jaw, and then this morning, I marked some territory." 

Dean blinked in a brief moment of surprise, "You don't think that's a bit violent?" 

"She had Mel, and she wasn't letting go." Claire answered with a hint of a growl. 

"Oh. Well, in that case, take no prisoners," Dean replied, "How about Alfie, how'd he handle that?" 

"He was up all night cleaning up the teddy bear from my nursery that she threw away. He knows he screwed up." 

Cas came into the room having heard the exchange, a look of worry on his face, "She threw away your bear?" 

"It's under control," Claire answered with a shrug. 

Dean scoffed, "Until it's not. Don't let him think for one second that he can apologize away all the bullshit she keeps piling up over there, or she'll start doing that shit behind his back and make you look crazy for bringing it up." 

"What set this all off?" Cas asked. 

"I'm a bad mom because I'm not her idea of feminine. I get dirt under my nails and break a sweat sometimes, and have a real job, so I'm not fit to care for a baby." 

"She said that? She called you a bad mother?" 

"More like hinted at it a billion times. But I told them both yesterday, I'm done minding my manners if she's not doing the same... Then she got bitchy about it being Alfie's house, and... I shouldn't have said it, but I used the d-word." 

Dean cringed, "I'm sure that got his attention." 

Charlie had wandered in unnoticed, closely followed by Ben. "What, 'dick?'" Charlie asked. 

Ben snorted as he pulled a box of waffles from the freezer, but kept his mouth shut, catching a warning look from Dean. 

"Divorce," Cas answered. 

"Oh." Charlie answered before the depth of the meaning became clear, "Ohhh. Yeah, that's a biggie." 

Pressing down the lever on the toaster, Ben stifled a chuckle at her words. 

"Charlie, am I masculine?" Claire asked. 

Charlie didn't even raise her eyes from where she was pouring a cup of coffee, "You might be able to pass for androgynous, but you'd probably need to stuff your pants." 

It was at this point Ben lost all semblance of composure, and had to snap his mouth shut over a loud guffaw, earning a confused look from Cas and a reproachful look from Dean. He shrugged, "Hey, you guys are the ones in here, all of you talking about dick first thing in the morning." 

Claire pointed toward the front door, "Go get your pissant excuse for a muscle car out of my way." 

* * *

Alfie had been pacing with Melody on his hip and repeatedly checking the time almost since Claire had left. His first instinct had been to take the picture down and put it away, and the same desire still ate at him. Considering the more relaxed culture Rachel had been raised in, he knew it would be somewhat unusual for her to take any issue with it, but at the same time, his mind was screaming at him that the representative nudity in the image, however abstract, was still recognizably meant to be Claire's, and putting it away ought to be a method of preserving her dignity.

It had to be a test. A girl-thing. He'd tried Kevin's number, but, as he'd been told to expect, Kevin's phone was going straight to voicemail, likely from spotty reception. 

He looked down at his daughter, bouncing her gently, "I have no idea what to do... Your mommy said she wants it up there on the wall, and she went to all the trouble to hang it up right... Maybe she wants to see what I do, if I leave it up, it's like I don't care who sees it, but if I take it down, that goes against her wishes... Shit... I can't win this, Mel, there's no right answer. Maybe cover it with a sheet or something... then all that crap last yesterday with my mother... She's got me by all your potential future siblings. Seriously... Who the hell do I call about this? She's gonna be here any time, and... You want to be my excuse? Tell mom it was making you hungry?" 

Melody only gurgled as she drooled around her fingers, staring up at his face with big blue eyes. 

"You see everything, don't you?" Alfie asked softly, as he grew still, "Everything around you, right? No context to go off of, until we tell you what it means." 

Alfie looked back to the image in the frame, a new context forming in his mind as he considered how he'd want his daughter to understand it as she grew. Those big, wide blue eyes, always hungry for knowledge, which seemed to take after her mother and grandfather, as the blue shade she'd carried like most newborns had faded, and certainly, if Claire kept the picture up, Melody would see it every day. At what age would she ask about it? At what age would she want to know the relevance of the mythical creature and it's connection to her mother, in his mind? Would she ever know about the horrible ashes that Claire, as he knew her, had chosen to rise above? 

He turned back to his daughter, briefly overwhelmed by her innocence and vulnerability, and suddenly the subject dropped from his mind completely. Once she was capable of speaking for herself, asking those questions, and having an opinion, Rachel would lose all interest. Claire was right. It was a matter of time before, like the bear, and like himself, Melody would be cast aside like trash. 

Abstract thoughts swam in his mind as he shook his head and carried her outside, one stray thought contemplating giving his mother a tour of the junkyard, shop, and paint shed to keep her out of the living room upon her arrival. Linda crossed his mind as a possible source of womanly advice, but he wasn't certain how to explain to her the dilemma he wasn't entirely sure he had. 

He spotted Dean on his way to the shop, and waved, starting out of the small front yard as Dean changed course to meet him. Dean greeted Melody first, with a hand on her head and a big smile on his face, "Hey, sweetheart!... Heard things got a little tense yesterday, how's that going?" 

Alfie reacted quickly to the change in Dean's voice, "Um... Well, I was hoping everybody would get along, but-" 

"You had no idea your mother was going to act like your mother?" 

"She's not the easiest person to deal with, but she cares." Alfie objected. 

"Do you know how fast Cas was at Claire's side when she had her car crash?" 

"Uh-" 

"He was in the building before they told him it was more than a scratch... Meanwhile, you, _she_ didn't even book a ticket. You're a parent now, so even this early, you have some insight to this. You get that call, sixteen, seventeen years up the road, they tell you baby girl here wrecked, what do you do?" 

"I go." 

"You didn't even have to think about it. You wouldn't call up Kevin, or Ben, or Cas and tell them to go sit with her and call you back when they found out whether she'd been paralyzed." It was an odd coincidence but not at all unexpected that Rachel's rental car arrived as Dean was speaking, pulling past them with a wave and heading toward the house. Alfie's breathing had changed with his new state of emotion, but he was distracted as Dean continued to speak, staring after the car, "I've wanted to tear into her for that since it happened, but it's not my place. Nothing's stopping you, though... Cas wants everybody at dinner tonight, her too, if it's not gonna stir shit up." 

Alfie nodded, starting for home, "I'll try." 

"And Alfie," Dean called after him, making him turn around. 

Dean gestured to Melody, "You need to make sure you two raise her to be a good person. There aren't enough of 'em in the world." 

Startled, and immediately wracking his mind for possible deeper meanings to his father in law's words, Alfie nodded dumbly once again, shifting Melody to his other hip, and made for the door. Rachel was pulling three heavy shopping bags from the back seat as his feet carried him toward the door, but it didn't register, as his mind was elsewhere. 

He'd struggled the same route up the steps years before, leaning heavily on Claire as she'd dragged him out from under the car, and half-carried him inside as he'd been heatsick, compounded by a well-concealed hangover. That day was still hazy, and likely always would be. 

Unaware of the horrific trauma she'd faced, he'd not only made an ass of himself, he'd hit on her at the same time. _"If you're gonna take my clothes off, you could at least kiss me first."_

As she was now his wife, and mother of his child, he wouldn't think twice about saying it, but at the time, with Claire at the age of sixteen, it was understandable that she'd seemed startled at his words. He mentally kicked himself, as he often did. 

But even with her reaction, through her now unmistakable flash of fear, she'd stayed with him. She'd gotten him out of the coveralls he rarely used and wasn't used to. He'd made a veiled reference to an evening where things had gone a little too far, directly to Dean, of all people, but she'd kept him focused on drinking the sports drink, and she'd stayed. He'd declared her to have permission to 'grab his junk,' and fallen over into her lap, and still, she'd stayed. Dean had offered her an easy out, but she didn't leave his side until Dean had very clearly sent her home. 

There was no doubt in his head where his loyalties lay as he opened the screen door wide for his mother, and the bags she carried. The question that plagued him was what to do about it. 

He followed her inside, half ignoring it as she cooed at Melody, pulling her from his arms to sit down in the armchair with the child in her lap. Alfie made for his usual spot on the couch, oddly enough the same where he'd awkwardly dumped himself that day years ago. 

He'd forgotten the picture entirely until Rachel, staring, and with an irritated voice asked him, "What is that?" 

He no longer worried what her reaction would be, and after looking at it once, turned back to her, "That's, uh... A badass bitch, I guess. Beautiful, isn't it?" 

* * *


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: Still plugging away!
> 
> Thanks for reading! FW)

* * *

** Almost Eight Years Ago **

* * *

Dean was eternally grateful that there were still several hours of Ben's school day to go when he'd been called to haul off what was left of the bike, only to find it was what remained of the only orange Harley Davidson in town. He'd felt sick to his stomach at the hint of dampness on the road, and had immediately asked the whereabouts of the rider. He'd been denied any information at all until he pointed out the license plate and said that the kid who had wrecked worked for him, at which point he was only told they were attempting to contact his family.

The officials left cleaning up the site of the accident only knew he'd been taken away in an ambulance, and couldn't say what the extent of the injuries were. 

Dean had been given leave to take the bike to the shop rather than the county impound lot for further investigation, as on an empty road, the crash had been attributed to driver error and possibly a failure to control speed, although they couldn't prove Alfie had been speeding. He'd left the bike, well, what was left of it, in the bike sling on the back of the tow truck, gotten into his car, and headed straight to the hospital. He'd been refused admittance as a guest due to the fact that he'd asked to see a patient who was a minor, but argued that he could supply information without being given any, and had been escorted in by a doctor. 

The doctor had already bent the rules a bit by confirming the name on the driver's license was the name of Dean's employee, and that the boy was still alive, and continued to bend the rules by letting Dean accompany him to see if said patient had regained consciousness. 

Dean had been able to pull up an employee file through on online business recordkeeping service on his phone, and provided the doctor with names and numbers for next of kin and legal guardians, crossing his fingers someone would answer. 

The following forty-eight hours proved Bobby's assessment of the boy's family life to be true, he was 'damn near alone in the world,' and 'the worst case of latch-key kid you ever saw.' 

Dean found himself frustrated on the second day, that proving parental abandonment of a seventeen-year-old with easy access to every creature comfort in the world was likely a huge waste of time. 

On the third day, Naomi had arrived, finally, half ignoring him as she spoke to the doctors, no one caring that Dean was still in the room, but as he listened carefully, it dawned on him exactly how difficult the recovery was going to be, even as Naomi continued to ask questions to clarify. Satisfied, she'd leaned over the boy, trying to get him to wake up. 

"Samandriel? It's Naomi, do you know where you are?" Alfie had weakly attempted to speak, but she'd shook her head, and turned back to the doctor with a coldness that rubbed Dean the wrong way. "Keep him doped up, unconscious if you have to, I want him comfortable." 

"Uh, last I checked, that guy," Dean pointed to the doctor, "Is the one with the medical degree. Shouldn't he be making the decisions on drugs like that?" 

Naomi fixed him with a measured look, "And you are?" 

Dean stood, offering a handshake which Naomi returned under obvious obligation, "Dean Winchester. I'm his boss." 

"His boss?" 

"Yeah. I own and run Singer Automotive since Bobby Singer passed." 

Dean could practically feel the chill in the air as Naomi seemed to bristle, "When he said he was working at a car repair place, I'd assumed he was joking. He usually says things like that to get a rise out of people. I suppose I should have known that wasn't ridiculous enough to be false." 

"So, ...sorry, I'm not sure, you're his mother?" 

"Aunt. His mother lives overseas." 

"Right... Yeah, he mentioned that. Any idea when his parents are going to be getting in? Maybe I can help with a ride from the airport?" Dean offered. 

Naomi gave him a condescending smile, "Thank you, but that won't be necessary. I'm keeping his mother updated, and it's not likely his father will tear himself away from work long enough to answer his voicemail." 

"So they aren't coming." 

"His mother faxed me temporary guardianship papers this morning, I can provide signatures where the hospital requires them. He'll be fine." 

Dean shrugged with a bit of a grumble, "Well, at least somebody showed up, right?" 

Naomi narrowed her eyes, "I don't like it any more than you do, but if you'd like to call my sister, you're welcome to try." 

"I'm sorry," Dean corrected himself, "I mean, I'm glad at least you're here, not your fault, that just came out wrong." 

Dean had offered to bring her lunch at the hospital, but she and her overtly businesslike mannerisms had taken over, and he was shuffled away. He'd tried, on his walk to his car, to reassure himself that he'd done his part, that Alfie's family needed to step in and take care of him now, but a nagging feeling continued as he started the engine. 

"What would Bobby do... What would Bobby do?" Dean muttered to himself, before resigning himself to the most obvious course of action. He turned onto the street listed as the home address in the employee file, and parked outside Alfie's house, and as he'd heard, directly across the street, carrying in groceries from her car in the driveway, was a woman who, given the heavily caucasian and hispanic population of the area, was very likely the mother of Kevin Tran, who he'd recently kicked out of the shop. 

Dean got out of the car, double-checking the address, and crossed the street, attempting to keep a polite distance as he approached her. 

"Excuse me, ma'am, do you know, ah, Samandriel Alford?" 

Despite being dwarfed by Dean's height and wide shoulders, she had a commanding air about her, "What is this about?" 

"I'm his boss, he, um..." 

"Dan, right?" 

"Dean. Yeah, he, uh, he had a motorcycle accident the other morning on the way to school. We managed to get his aunt to come from Dallas, I was just wondering-" a torrent of emotion crossed her face, far more than Naomi had shown, in a much shorter amount of time. Dean knew immediately he'd found the kid's 'real' family, "-if anyone called you, but I guess not. Last I heard, they weren't going to move him to a bigger hospital, but I don't know if that's good or bad, they couldn't tell me much." 

The woman was near tears already, a slight shake of her head, "Did anyone get ahold of his uncle, Crowley?" 

"I'm not sure. But his aunt said his parents probably aren't coming." 

She shook her head harder, "I don't know much about his aunt, but Crowley comes by to see him sometimes. That's who I'd trust to make decisions for him, not her." 

Dean nodded, "I think I have his number, I'll give him a call myself." 

Linda, as Dean soon got to know her through Alfie's time in the hospital, was true to the first impression. Crowley had arrived soon after a tense phone call with Dean, and there was something of a strained conversation between Crowley and Naomi that had made no sense to him at all. 

At the very least, Crowley's presence seemed to settle Kevin, who'd been a strong source of annoyance to Dean for some time. The full effect had been rather noticeable when he'd first arrived. During yet another mid-day meet-up in the hospital waiting room with the Trans, Linda had crossed to the doorway to speak to Naomi, and Crowley had come in through another door, spotted Kevin at the window looking out over the small town, and stood next to him. Crowley had acted surprised to notice him. 

"Kevin! I hardly recognized you, sober, standing, and with your clothes on..." Crowley pointed through the glass before them, "Enjoying the view? 

Dean had wondered about the circumstances as Kevin's face drained of color and he slunk away toward his mother. 

"Any word on my nephew?" Crowley asked with a less sarcastic tone as he sat down near Dean. 

Dean shook his head, "There won't be as long as she's here... She keeps pushing the doctors to keep him out of it, demanding meds, but if he doesn't come out of it to tell them how he's feeling, or try to move his legs, they can't know what's wrong, but nobody wants to argue when she's got lawyers on speed dial." 

"You have some medical training." Crowley assumed correctly. 

"Enough to know she's getting in the way of the folks trying to keep him alive, get him back on his feet," Dean replied. 

Crowley nodded, "Thank you for bringing that to my attention. I had been content to let her hover, but she'll be gone by the end of the day." 

Something about Crowley's manner didn't sit well with Dean, but he had nothing to go on to place it. 

"Get his parents out here?" Dean asked, "Last time he tried to talk while I was in there, seemed like he was asking about his dad." 

"Sadly, no. Lucifer doesn't bother himself about these things." 

"I'm sorry, did you say Lucifer?" Dean asked, "Like the devil?" 

"Lucius, actually. Or just Luc, but if you can't speak rudely about your own brother ignoring his only offspring, well..." Crowley spread his hands, "He'll have her removed from the hospital, let the doctors sort him out, and she'll find something else to micromanage." 

* * *

** Now **

* * *

"You must have a vivid imagination, or she must have put on quite a bit of weight since then." Rachel intoned rudely.

"She's in great shape, actually. You'd never know because she doesn't dress to show it off. Even with the whole pregnancy thing." 

Rachel rolled her eyes, "I can't believe _this_ is something you'd expose your daughter to. What is she going to learn from seeing that?" 

"You're pissed," Alfie chuckled quietly, "You know, I thought maybe you'd just be happy for me, but you really can't take it, can you?" 

"What are you talking about?" 

"The same way you kept firing anyone who worked for us, if she was under two hundred pounds or wore makeup, she was gone in a week." 

Rachel glared, "Your father was a pig. Every time-" 

"He was fucking his secretary, not the maids, and you know it. And you were doing this long before that started." 

"How do you know anything about it?" Rachel snapped. 

"Because you'd walk around the house with the phone in your ear, whining to your sister about it, and it never seemed to occur to you that while those adults around you didn't understand, I heard every word... I thought this was something deeper, but I guess you'd have to have a personality to have a personality clash, so it's the same shallow shit on a different day. She's pretty and you hate her for it, so all you can do is tear her down." 

"She's not worth it." Rachel answered. 

Alfie smirked silently as he pictured the chaos of his childhood, complete with screaming and very purposefully slammed doors all occurring within his mother's mind. The horrible things she'd love to say, sharp, jagged edges with harsh tones, muddying the bright and happy colors that would have been a pleasant day. 

He supposed Claire had had a stroke of genius, likely finding Rachel's nerve and pushing back, whether it had been the correct nerve or an accidental one very close to it, but she had certainly found it. 

"You want me to be happy, right?" Alfie asked quietly after letting her seethe for a moment. 

"Of course I do." 

"Then be nice to her. And I don't mean your version of nice, I mean honestly nice, without the attitude." 

Rachel couldn't seem to let it go, "And her father, how does he treat you?" 

"Which one?" 

"I don't care. Both of them." 

Alfie glanced at Melody, who he had purposefully dressed in a light blue romper with minimal feminine detail that morning, if only to annoy his mother, "Neither one of them ever ran me off with a shotgun, so, with a daughter of my own, now, I'd say that means they absolutely adore me." 

"And her mother? Where is she?" 

Alfie's expression went hard immediately, "I told you before the wedding, that topic is completely off-limits." 

"I'm just trying to understand." Rachel wheedled. 

"Okay, she's gone, and she can't hurt anybody as long as she stays gone. And she will stay gone, because Claire was smart enough to put the fear of god into her, so, nothing to worry about." 

Rachel looked horrified, "How can she just push her own mother away like that?" 

"Don't ask." 

* * *

Rachel had been silent, and seemingly on edge each time Claire had come back to the house to feed Melody, and had left just before she'd come home for her lunch break. Looking around as she went to the fridge, Claire turned to Alfie and gestured at the empty living room with a questioning look.

"She went out to meet up with her friend. She'll be back for dinner at your dad's tonight." 

Claire nodded, satisfied, "Okay." 

"And Melody's down for her nap, so-" Alfie said softly, inching closer. 

"So you have some peace and quiet. Great," Claire replied, pulling a container of leftovers from the middle shelf, and heading for the silverware drawer, "I have to replace some brake pads and put a bumper on a minivan." 

"Yeah, or-" 

"Nope," Claire answered, carelessly shoving the plastic box into the microwave, "No makeup, no stockings, no heels, I'm practically a guy now." 

"Fine by me, I'll still be your girlfriend," Alfie replied, slipping an arm around her waist. 

"That reminds me, I'm going out to watch the game with the guys tonight. I'm sure you can catch up on your sewing, or whatever," Claire teased. 

Alfie caught hold of the zipper on her coveralls and quickly dragged it down to her waist, "Oops... You know I haven't had my hands in an engine in weeks?" 

"Yeah, I know, the backlog at the shop makes it pretty clear. How's that new piece going?" Claire asked, feigning disinterest. 

"I'm getting nowhere." 

"With it, or with me? Or both? Nevermind, I gotta get back to work." Claire asked, disentangling herself from Alfie. She pulled the container from the microwave, delivered a firm swat to Alfie's rear, and made for the door. 

He watched as the door closed softly behind her, and smirked. Whatever his own frustration, she seemed in high spirits, and he had high hopes that the evening would be a start to smoothing things over. 

* * *

"How long do you think Charlie's staying for?" Xander asked, staring out the windshield as Ben drove.

"Dad said it might be a while. She'd have to find a place, get all set up again, they didn't have enough room to keep all her stuff and Meg's, so... Anyway, we're not supposed to ask." 

Xander nodded, "So we get the camping gear out, and move you and the dogs to the back yard?" 

"Nah, we're gonna stuff you in the attic where you can't stand up until you get a hunchback. Our very own Quasimodo." 

Xander snorted, "Right... Just, if she's here for a while, it would probably suck less if she had some space. You should give her your room." 

"No way, you trade her for the couch." 

"No, look, grab the air mattress out of the camp stuff, I think I've got enough space in my room to put up with you for a while." Xander replied. 

"Yeah, but then the dogs will climb all over you, which was the whole reason you keep your door shut, that doesn't work." 

"Oh, right... Well, crap." 

"Not the dumbest idea I've heard today, just needs some tweaking," Ben mused, pulling into the driveway, "What if we eminent-domain Pops' office? Set her up in there?" 

Xander shrugged, "Sounds better. How fast can we build a wall, though?" 

"How fast can we get in deep shit for screwing up the house, you mean? Not that we couldn't, I mean, some boards and wall panels, whatever, but it would suck, and Pops would act like he's not pissed but then Dad would be extra pissed... A curtain or something, maybe." 

Xander got out as Ben parked the Mustang, and went straight to the garage, raising the metal door. Ben joined him after a moment, mostly out of curiosity. 

Focused as they were, it was easy to lose track of time. Xander had gotten started as Ben had taken care of Nick and the remaining puppies still being fostered, and by the time Cas had arrived home with Charlie, a large sheet of mostly opaque plastic, unused drop-cloth from painting a room some time ago, covered the wide archway to the left of the front door that had once been a formal sitting room and now contained Cas' home office. 

Although Dean and the boys would help whenever asked, at any point a home repair project would take place, it was almost always Cas who made the decisions, so to find the plastic sheets hanging, entirely blocking off the sight of his office was disconcerting. He'd barely gotten the front door shut before pulling the makeshift curtain aside to find Xander and Ben moving some of the rather heavy furniture. The room was in something of a disarray, and it seemed as though the only thing that hadn't been affected was his desk. 

"What are you doing?" Cas asked tonelessly as the words left his mouth automatically. 

Xander pointed to the still rolled air bed from the garage, still sitting on the floor near Cas' feet, "You're almost never in here. We figured Charlie could crash in here instead of on the couch." 

"Yeah, like, y'know, an actual room, almost. I mean-," Ben started, only to be cut off by Charlie, whose emotions were evident in her tear-filled voice. 

"O.M.G., you guys!" she said, moving closer and gathering each of them into a hug in turn, "You're just absolute sweethearts, just like your dads." 

With Charlie's back to him, Cas risked a glance upward to check what was holding the plastic to the molding above the door, "They're certainly considerate. I wish I'd thought of it... Is this nailed into the wall?" 

"Uh, no, it's thumbtacks," Ben answered, "We just kind of pushed them in the top of the board there." 

"It's not going to hold like that." 

"Relax, Cas, it's temporary. Just like me being here, anyway," Charlie answered. 

"Yeah, and it's not a load-bearing curtain, Pops," Xander replied with a chuckle. 

Cas gave them each a level look, "I would have helped if you had checked with me first, but since you took this upon yourselves, you're putting it all back later on. Also, we have Claire's mother in law coming for dinner tonight, so do what you can to make this look presentable, and mind your manners." 

With a quick echo of 'yessir' from the boys, Cas headed for the kitchen with Charlie at his heels. 

"Hey," Charlie said quietly once they were out of earshot, "Sorry if I'm getting in the way, but this really won't-" 

"You are not in the way, Charlie. The boys are right to try to give you a space, and they were right about where it would be best to set that up. You're not the type to step on toes." 

"Yeah, but, if it gets that way, then-" 

"No. You've had a major upheaval set your life back a few steps, that's not your fault. We have the space, there's no need to rush to get back on your feet, not when careful planning means you could do it better rather than faster." 

Charlie looked no less close to tears from hearing it as Cas started his dinner prep routine, watching him quietly, "Seems like you're always pulling my ass out of the fire." 

"I'm not. Sometimes it's your turn." 

"You co-signed on my car... Which your husband is towing for me, since that bitch has my keys so far down her bra they bump the pavement when she walks. Not to mention the whole 'Operation Voldemort' thing." 

Cas paused and gave her what he hoped was a meaningful glance, but having known him for so long, Charlie guessed his message immediately. 

"Somebody doesn't know? Who doesn't know? ...Ben and Xander? ...But you told Dean, right? ...Oh my god, you didn't tell Dean," Charlie gave him a firm tap on the upper arm, "You married him for real and you didn't tell him? Cas!" 

"It's in the past. We have an agreement-" 

"Cas! Is your brain on dial-up?" Charlie snapped before shaking her head, "Okay, nevermind, your marriage, none of my business." 

Cas nodded in agreement, turning back to what he was doing as Charlie looked around the kitchen for a way to be of help before fetching a knife from a drawer and making for the vegetable crisper in the refrigerator. 

* * *

Alfie was certain that over the course of phone calls throughout the last seven-odd years, he had mentioned to his mother at least a few times that Cas was fluent in French, and even more so in German. He was sure that he'd mentioned the benefits and drawbacks of the situation, being able to discuss surprises for Claire, or having his ass handed to him verbally without anyone else - aside from occasionally, Kevin - understanding a word of it. The German accent occasionally tripped them up, but overall, it was very effective.

He was also sure that if he'd mentioned it a million times, she'd forget, the same way she'd forgotten the actual day of his birth. 

As much as he hated conflict, though, his mother's reaction to the picture Claire had hung in the living room that morning had begun the gears of rebellion turning in his head. His joy at having his mother close by after so many years without her, at introducing her to his family, had finally soured irreparably. His conscious mind hadn't quite caught on yet, but his subconscious was now at the point where he was willing to let her, and her behavior, sink or swim. A fleeting feeling, less than a thought, were it to correctly articulate itself, also suggested to him that as he was a partial subject, perhaps that language barrier was making him too lenient. Claire could only understand and reply to the insults Rachel wanted her to hear, to the digs and barbs that were intentional. She was able to talk about her behind her back in the very same room, and while Cas had the same ability, Rachel's was only used maliciously. Should Cas overhear her, though, with Rachel unaware, it would force a tougher level of accountability on Alfie's part. 

Alfie made the conscious decision, with unconscious reasons, as his mother's rental car pulled near to the house that he would not remind her. 

He stood on the front porch near the door, in the space that he'd long ago found Bobby's lifeless form, hands and throat cold to the touch, and a very off color to his skin. He bounced his happy child gently, and turned in place as she looked around, her eyes taking in everything as she kept her wiggling fingers in her mouth. Claire joined him with the smallest of three diaper bags, just as Rachel was closing her car door, "Got everything?" 

There was a brief contention as they started for the gravel road, Rachel wanted to carry Melody, but Claire was firmly against it, due to the unpaved terrain and Rachel's inappropriate footwear. Alfie, not looking to have his daughter hit the ground should his mother twist an ankle, backed Claire immediately, despite Rachel's dramatic eye roll and protests that she knew how to carry a baby and walk at the same time. 

Soon, Rachel dropped back a bit, and linked arms with Claire as though it were the most natural thing in the world, "Tell me, how did you grow up out here, with no friends to play with close by?" 

"Um, I only moved here when I was fourteen, before that I lived in California." 

"What made your father decide to move here? The family land, right?" Rachel prodded. 

"No, before that I lived with my mom. But I wanted to go to college here, so I figured I needed to do what was best for my future, and my dad agreed with me, so I came out here to live with him." 

"They have no good colleges where your mother lives?" Rachel asked. Alfie could feel a coldness building within him, and hoped she was genuinely just curious, but it was closely skirting the subject of Claire's mother, which he'd specifically told her not to ask about. 

"Well, Hemet's a pretty small town. Also, she had started using hard drugs, so, y'know, not exactly the best place for a kid to be." 

"Ah..." Rachel took her arm from Claire's elbow, putting it around her shoulder's making it more difficult for both of them to walk, and Alfie was almost sure his mother meant well, in her own way, by the gesture, "And so at fourteen, you come here, no maman, no sisters, the girls at school live in the town, of course you would have a hard time learning to look and act like a woman. I think I understand, now. Poor baby." 

Claire plastered on a false smile as she had learned to do as a child, "Right... That must be it." 

* * *


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: New chapter!
> 
>  
> 
> My kids are out of my hair after Christmas, hoping to knock out a bunch then. I'm trying, really! The plot is blocked out til the first big time-skip, but it's taking forever to actually have the characters do the stuff they're supposed to do. Painful, really.
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me. I'm going to warn you now that the next chapter is going to be a rollercoaster. Love you guys! And because I find it highly unlikely I'll post anything tomorrow, Merry Christmas in advance!!! FW)

* * *

**Almost Eight Years Ago**

* * *

Alfie began to fight his way through a heavy blanket of inky darkness, as a deep burning radiated up his right leg. Something was very wrong.

He could hear voices arguing and hoped briefly his parents had come home, but it couldn't be, as the voices were hushed. There was a bite to the woman's voice, similar to his mother's, but lacking her shriller tones, and a measured, nearly cruel calm to the man's voice, very much like the low, deep threat-lying-in-wait his father used, but with a soothing rasp to it. 

Alfie struggled a dry cough from his aching throat, and continued to force his way to full consciousness. 

Had he opened his eyes, he would have seen Crowley hissing an insult to Naomi, and backing her out of the room, where two rather imposing orderlies waited to make sure she didn't try to force her way back in. A nurse, having been given clearance from the attending physician, had adjusted the medication in his IV accordingly and was bustling about the room. 

Crowley leaned out into the hall, and waved Dean in, even as Dean protested, "You sure you don't want to get Linda in here? She knows him better than I do." 

Dean was ignored as Crowley shook his head, returning to Alfie's side. 

"Samandriel?" Crowley asked, squeezing the boy's wrist, "Are you waking up?" 

"My leg hurts." came the weak reply. 

Dean breathed easier, "Well, thank God for that." 

* * *

**Now**

* * *

Fine. Not great, not horrible, not even mildly good or bad, simply a level and uneventful fine, was how the dinner was going. To exaggerate for niceties, one could even stretch the description to the word well, but in truth, that wasn't quite it. Rachel had shown enough tact not to mention the inelegant plastic sheeting hanging in the living room, Ben and Xander had curbed an inappropriate conversation early, and Charlie attempted to be a pleasant distraction, despite the habit of going on tangents with references she assumed others would know.

Dinner was going fine. 

And then, as Alfie had been expecting such an event to crop up, Rachel turned to Dean and asked in a conversational manner, "So... Three children in this family, and not one of them is related to the other two. That must be interesting." 

A shadow crossed Dean's face quickly, but in an attempt to hide it, he shrugged, "They're all related by adoption, not that that matters. They know family is more than that." 

"Yes, but, surely that must be hard for both of you, caring for the children equally. I can't imagine how you would do it." 

Dean bit back a comment about her own inability to care for the only child she'd ever had, as Alfie quietly tried to hush her, but was quickly drowned out by Ben's louder voice, "Um, ma'am, all due respect, but we do what works for our family, and that's none of your business." 

"Isn't it, though? My granddaughter is a part of that family," Rachel replied to Ben directly, a commanding tone surfacing, clearly speaking down to him, "I want to know how she'll be raised, and who is around her." 

Ben nodded as he considered his next words, "Okay. I can get that, but what does being related have to do with being family?" 

"Everything." Rachel answered. 

Xander choked on his drink, beginning to laugh at her indignant reply, "Well, I guess I know where that leaves me." 

Correctly assuming Xander was about to say more, Cas tapped him gently on the wrist closest to him, and gave a nearly imperceptible shake of his head, an obvious signal to let it go, a signal which Ben hadn't caught. 

"Okay, then, you tell me," Ben continued, rebellion creeping into his voice, "How do you know Alf- Samandriel wasn't switched with some other kid in the hospital when he was born? And if he was, and you found out about it next week, would you disown him, and never want to see Melody? I mean, you raised him, he's your son, but if blood is that important to you, you'd drop him in a heartbeat, right? Oh, wait, that kind of sounds familiar-" 

"Ben!" Charlie snapped. 

Ben shrugged, "She can stop me when I'm wrong... Anyway, she's sitting here accusing my dads of favoritism, trying to say the three of us don't count as siblings, but she's just barely met us." 

Cas risked a glance at Claire, who did what she could to hide a smirk as she reached for her beer in silence. 

"So you seem to be telling me," Rachel said softly but forcefully as she looked around the table, "My little Melody has a grandfather who isn't her grandfather, and two rude, teenaged non-uncles, and then... This... Red-haired... something, what are you, anyway?" 

Charlie rolled her eyes, not having wanted to get pulled into the conflict, "Me? I'm Cas' father's brother's nephew's cousin's former roommate." 

Dean cleared his throat, attempting to shut down the situation, catching Rachel's eye, and explained gently, but firmly, "I know, I know, our little family here isn't exactly traditional, I know how that's gotta look from the outside, but trust me on this, it is still a family. Now, if you'd been local and gotten to know us over time, you'd see that. Me and Cas, we love our kids. _All_ of our kids, we don't pick and choose, we don't take sides, or at least, we try not to. And maybe it's hard to explain, and maybe it can hit a nerve sometimes," Dean shot Ben a look, and was well aware that Ben seemed to be itching to continue, "But we make it work." 

Rachel managed something of an understanding smile, and nodded, "Of course. That's the whole reason I'm here now, to get to know you." 

Dean had hoped the matter had settled, but Rachel then turned to Alfie, speaking softly in the same language she'd taught him as a baby many years ago, _"These people are morons."_

Attempting to cover for his mother's rudeness, he passed a dish of vegetables to her, although the look he gave her was unmistakable, "Here you go." 

Without looking, he could feel Cas' eyes weighing on him, and was glad he wasn't prone to blushing, or he was sure he'd be beet red. Charlie had mercifully changed the topic to something involving Xander's last football game before he'd been suspended from playing. 

Rachel took a moment to compliment Cas on a glaze he'd made for one of the dishes, and as the conversation continued, she spoke to her son once more, _"This mess wouldn't be an issue if you brought your daughter to Paris. They couldn't afford an international custody battle."_

Alfie took a deep breath as he was certain Cas had to have heard her. _"That will never happen. Bring it up again, and it will be the last time you ever see her,"_ he growled. 

* * *

Claire had been too amused watching Ben try to get Xander to hold Melody to notice when Cas had dragged Alfie to a quiet corner for a few minutes, but on the walk home, what few words there were between Alfie and Rachel were tense, and overly quiet.

It didn't occur to her that there could be any more than a low ripple of discord between the two until after they'd reached Rachel's car, ignoring Claire, who'd headed for the front door rather than intrude on whatever was going on. 

As Claire closed the front door behind her, she heard Alfie snap, "Because Cas speaks French! I told you that! I've told you several times!" 

Claire shifted Melody in her arms, making for the stairs and speaking softly, "I guess his birthday isn't the only thing she forgets." 

The small, unassuming home was hardly soundproof, but being so far from town, it was easy to forget, and Melody startled slightly and started to fuss as a car door slammed outside, and the rental tore out of the yard. 

Below them, as Claire finished changing Melody for bed, the front door closed sharply, and within moments, Alfie was lurking in the doorway of the nursery, a nervous energy making him twitch as he sullenly stared at his wife and child. 

"What's going on?" Claire asked, as if the events of the evening were a regular occurrence. 

Alfie shook his head, gathering his thoughts, trying to make sense of them, "She's a bitch... I mean, I tried, really, and I think your dad gets that, but... I just don't know what he's going to say to you about this..." 

Claire shrugged, "None of my business. If it's not in English, she's obviously not talking to me. And anyway, she's your mother, you deal with her." 

"I am dealing with her," Alfie replied with a guilty tone, "Just, if Cas says anything to you about what she said tonight-" 

"None of his business either." 

"Claire-" 

"Don't," Claire said sharply, "Don't get pissed off at me for being past the point of caring. I'm tired of the bullshit, and I'm done worrying about her attitude. I'm not changing anything to make her happy, and neither should you." 

"I'm not... Just, what she said-" 

"Don't care. I'm tired, and I'm going to bed," Claire replied, gently attempting to push past him with Melody in her arms. 

Alfie caught her and pulled her close, Melody between them, burying his face in Claire's hair. 

"Annnd the clingy part starts. Okay, whatever, still need air," Claire muttered, unimpressed. 

* * *

Returning to the makeshift guest room with the correct air pump, Cas passed it to Dean, who unwound the cord for Charlie to plug in, and began inflating the bed.

"So, you rip him a new one?" Dean asked. 

"What do you mean?" Cas asked. 

"You cornered him after dinner... Sounded like he was getting rude to his mother at the table, just wondering what I missed." 

"She was being really bitchy about the kids, though. That was uncalled for," Charlie said quietly. At a questioning look from Dean, Charlie scoffed, "Language is just code. Duh. I don't speak it, I just know enough to catch most of what was said." 

Cas shrugged, "I was in a bad mood, but... I'd like to think, in the long run, I was being supportive." 

"Didn't look supportive," Dean answered. 

"I'm sure it didn't, however, I did make it very clear to him that Melody's existence aside, he's family, and he belongs here, with Claire, or without if anything were to happen to her... He's a part of this family," Cas said, moving to the desk to move a few things left out into the drawers. 

"And?" Dean asked. 

"And," Charlie continued on Cas' behalf, "If Alfie leaves without Claire kicking him out, Cas will gut him like a fish and use his hollow husk for a bird feeder... I caught that part." 

"Cas," Dean warned over the sound of the air pump. 

Cas shook his head, "There was more to it than just him leaving, and while he made an effort to make his mother see that wasn't an option, I'm not sure he was as clear as he should've been." 

Dean looked up, "Melody, right? I mean, what else could it be about? She's the only reason Rachel's here in the first place." 

Cas didn't answer, but Charlie spoke up, "If he tells Claire, you think she'll go scorched-earth on Rachel?" 

"Claire would, but really, she shouldn't have to, even if she is the one who wears the pants over there," Dean answered, "But he's shown some guts in the past, so we can hope he'll pull his head out of his ass and handle it just gotta give him the time to man-up." 

* * *

Burdened with the type of stress he only felt eased through physical contact, Alfie had curled up as close as he could with Claire and Melody, but his mind wouldn't let him sleep.

It had become routine for Claire and Melody both to fall asleep, baby still at the breast, and if he was still awake he'd move Melody to the crib, but not always. A dim light came from the upstairs alcove, and as he'd learned months ago, if he was very careful, he could get his ear to a point where he could clearly hear both Claire's breathing and Melody's. Otherwise, the small house was silent as he considered tomorrow. 

Alfie had forgotten to silence his phone and jolted for it the second it started to ring on the nightstand, answering quickly, and assuming it was his mother, hissed several choice words into it as he slipped out of the room. 

"Damn, baby, you haven't called me 'mom' in a long time," Kevin replied. 

Alfie took a brief look at the screen, not recognizing the number, being giving only the word Wyoming in parenthesis below the digits, "What happened? You feed your phone to a bear?" 

"No signal. Got just a bit to see you tried to call yesterday, lucky for your ass, there's landlines," Kevin answered, "So, how's the family reunion going?" 

"My mom's a bitch, Claire's done with the whole thing, and ... Actually, even Mel seems stressed out... And maybe I keep fucking this shit up," Alfie answered as he turned off the upstairs light, and sat down low on the staircase. 

"Yeah? So, who's going to fix it?" 

"I don't know what to do, or stop doing to fix it. I told her to back off of Claire, it only got worse." 

"Dude, she's your mom, she loves you, right?" Kevin asked in exasperation, "Or at least, she's supposed to?" 

"Yeah?" 

"So she should care more about you, Claire, your marriage, your kid, and all of you guys being happy than some stranger dragged in off the sidewalk, right?" 

"I guess." 

"Okay, so, if she's going to be so disrespectful as to start crap that you wouldn't take from some asshole rando, then she deserves whatever treatment you would give some asshole rando starting the same crap. Actually, she'd deserve worse, so, that would still count as going easy on her for being family." 

Alfie nodded silently, "I get it, it's just not that easy... And then right in front of Cas today, she said I should move to Paris with Mel." 

Alfie wasn't certain what he was hearing on the other end of the phone line, but there seemed to be a snort of disgust, disbelief, and coughing, "Right, like that's gonna happen." 

"Yeah, well, you can guess how Cas took it... I kind of see it, though, if Mel was an adult with her own baby, and somebody suggested taking her kid away from her, I'd probably react the same way... Worse, probably." 

In the background, he could hear Margaret faintly ask Kevin a question, and Kevin's reply, "It's my mom. She wants me and Mike to move to Korea with her." 

Kevin's coherent words suddenly dropped into a chant of 'ow, ow, ow!' and Margaret's voice came on clearly, "Alfie? So help me, if you're even thinking about it-" 

"I'm not, I swear!" 

"Good. Good, because you're my friend, and I love you, but I would find you and end you. Okay? And it would be bad. Really bad. Assuming you were still alive, because let's face it, if you two broke up, Claire would be miserable for a while, then get over it, but you... Well, that would probably kill you." 

Alfie nodded silently, and again wondered if Cas would speak to Claire, and what Claire's reaction would be. Surely she couldn't hold him accountable for the words that his mother had chosen to speak? And he had tried to shut her down immediately. She'd demanded an apology on the walk back, which had caused the argument, and he'd blatantly refused. 

"I gotta go, tell your mom I said 'get fucked.'" 

"Yeah, I, uh, don't really know what to say to that," Alfie said softly. 

No less confused after the call, only slightly more resolved to find a solution, and worried what would ultimately come of the situation, Alfie began to pace, soon finding himself in the living room. He stopped by the poster Claire had put up that morning, and delicately traced a finger along the curve of a line of flame depicting a thigh. 

He started for the stairs again, only to find himself staring up them, an increasing gradient of darkness attributed to each step, and at the top, the window, through with he could see a few specks of light in a cold, black vastness of space. 

It was also dark below the ocean, where an anchor sat, possibly still attached to remains of a monster vanquished in her name, but without her knowledge or permission. And despite his only confidante's reassurances, he was sure that on some level that blood had stained his hands as well as Crowley's. 

Someone had died over her. Someone had killed over her. With her own body, she had birthed a new, unique life into the world. Yet that woman sleeping above him had not the faintest idea the kind of power she held. 

Silencing his phone this time, and determined to get some sleep, Alfie went upstairs, and resumed his place in the bed, curled around Claire, Melody between them, his back to the door. He put his arm above his head, and lazily stroked Claire's hair back from her face 

Feeling the bed shift, Claire opened her eyes sleepily, "What's wrong?" 

Alfie shook his head, "Nothing." 

"You look freaked out," Claire whispered in the darkness. 

"I bet Helen of Troy looked like you... kinda wanna try out the golden ratio on your face." 

Claire squinted in annoyance, "Leave my face alone and go to sleep." 

* * *

_Alfie felt sick as the familiar setting came into focus, and he recognized where he was. In his waking hours, he might have complained that he was getting too old to keep dreaming he was at school, but he could feel the weight of his backpack, and he'd headed out the door past the portable buildings once again._

_As always, filled with the same dread since he'd met Claire, and finally gotten to know her as a person- No, prior to that, eavesdropping on her conversations with Bobby the few times he'd been brave enough was when he'd started to see her as a person - he rounded the corner._

_Almost every time he'd had the dream, it had been Will. A few times, when he had been at odds with Ivan and had considered him either a threat to Claire or a possible rival, it had been him. At one point Kevin had even backed her against the wall with his hand on her throat, but it was almost always Will, exactly as the memory had occurred._

_This time, however, it was Rachel._

_He couldn't be sure what Rachel was saying, it was too faint, but at the same time, Claire held her steady, if somewhat fearful gaze, and the fear and anger in her eyes ate away at him._

* * *

Claire had managed to enforce a very uneventful morning, refusing to discuss Rachel at all, and was soon at the shop, busying herself enough to forget the drama entirely. For a while, anyway. She was, unfortunately, at the front desk when Rachel suddenly appeared in a huff.

"Good morning!" Claire greeted her chipperly, "I'm sorry, we don't do repairs on rentals without the company's consent. You'll probably need to have it towed. Have a nice day, though." 

"Very funny," Rachel glowered, "There is nothing wrong with the car, my son is not coming to the door, not answering his phone. You're not-" 

"Wow, it's almost like you did something to really piss him off. Well, I'm sure you'll sort it out. Have a nice day." 

"Stop telling me to have a nice day!" Rachel snapped. 

"Fine. Have a shitty one. No skin off my nose." 

"Does your stepfather know you speak to the customers like this?" 

Claire barked out a laugh, before answering her with a hint of a snotty tone, "You're not a customer, _mom._ You're family." 

"Tell your husband he has to stop acting like a child-" 

"I can't. He said this morning that I'm not the boss of him. I think there was also a 'nyah-nyah-nah-nyah-nyah' involved. But he's right. Now, normally, I wouldn't care, but as we have a baby at home, I can't have a lot of noise out on the front porch, so, no temper tantrums, and I won't call the cops about the crazy bitch trying to break into my house, deal?" 

Rachel brought herself up to her full height, her voice going hard, "I have overlooked many things for my son, Claire. But look at yourself. You are a shopgirl with dirt under her nails in a town no one has ever heard of. When Samandriel comes to his senses, when your little boyish act isn't cute anymore, that is all you will have left." 

Claire let her actual rage take over her expression as her voice remained calm, "At least I can get by with what I've got. I have never relied on Alfie, at least, not like that. I have a place to live, a good job, a supportive family, he could walk out of my life, and Melody and I would be _fine_... You, God, have you ever worked a day in your life?" 

"You know nothing about me!" Rachel snapped. 

"Only what your son tells me. Only what I see. And I see an over-inflated egotistical bitch with nothing better to do than come into my garage and order me to boss my husband around, and that's not happening, because I actually have a shred of respect for the guy. Get out, I have an actual fucking job to do, and even you couldn't pay me enough to deal with you on top of that." 

With the stature and pacing of a model walking a runway Rachel turned on her heel and made straight for the door, slamming it loudly behind her and rattling the few frames on the walls. 

Claire paid no mind to the soft footsteps behind her until Dean spoke, "Kid, you just out-bitched your mother in law." 

"She needed it." 

"No argument there." 

Claire reached for the keyboard, but stopped herself, "I kind of feel bad for her. It's got to be scary as hell to be that useless." 

"What do you mean?" Dean asked. 

"Well, just, me and her, right? Drain our bank accounts, like, absolute zero plus a little debt. I'd be back on my feet in two days, but her? She'd be completely screwed. Alfie said her side of the family was originally from Austria, missed the whole revolution, and as far as anyone knows, never not had tons of cash... I think his dad had the right idea, stranding him here, even if they did a really bad job of it. Took the silver spoon right out of his mouth, you know?" 

After a brief instance of fatherly awe, Dean smiled, "Claire? ...You're my favorite daughter. I just want you to know that." 

"Yeah, well, don't let Lucas hear you." 

* * *

Rachel decided to give it one more try before giving up entirely, and knocked softly on the front door. After a few moments, Alfie, disheveled as any parent of a child under a year old had a right to be, cracked the door open, not enough to seem like any sort of invitation to come inside.

"Samandriel, this is not how I raised you." 

"How you raised me? Children emulate, mom. So if I'm quiet and clean up after myself, nothing like you, obviously the maids raised me. Well, and that one nanny, Teresa, who told me I needed to think about my actions, and how they hurt other people so I'd stop acting like a little shit." 

Rachel shook her head, "I want to talk. I want to smooth things over. You'll listen?" 

Cowed, he opened the door, and showed her into the living room. A quilt was spread on the floor, and Melody was inching around on her stomach with several colorful, textured toys. Rachel sat down on the couch, and stared at her granddaughter for a moment before looking up at the print of the phoenix. 

"I can see why you like her. She's strong," Rachel said quietly. 

"Probably the first honestly nice thing you've said about her." 

"She called me a bitch and kicked me out of the car repair office." 

Alfie smirked, believing every word easily. 

"I don't want want to waste the rest of my time here. Last night, I was only thinking out loud. How nice it would be to have Melody close by, that is all." 

"No, or you wouldn't have suggested taking her away from her mother. There was no reason for that. I told you that I'm happy with Claire, and even if there were problems, that doesn't mean I'd keep her away from her baby." 

Rachel leaned back slightly, getting comfortable, "Was she joking? About her mother, and the drugs?" 

"No." 

"Did she beat Claire?" 

"I don't know... Probably not, but she has suffered plenty." 

Rachel looked down to Melody on the floor, "And what will that mean for her?" 

"Who can say? But it'll be better, I think, because Claire knows first-hand how bad it can be, and she doesn't want that for Mel." 

Rachel shook her head, "It's so hard to know what not to say, you know?" 

Alfie nearly gawked, "How? How hard is it, just to keep your mouth shut and not be rude to people? Or have you just gotten so used to only behaving yourself when there's a contract getting signed?" 

"I'm ... I'm sorry." she whispered. 

After a moment to be certain she'd actually said it, Alfie rubbed his face, "I could've sworn I'd never hear that out of you." 

* * *


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: So, uh... here's some stuff. Kind of trainwrecky, actually. May seem a little soap opera, even for this, but honestly, everybody breaks down sometimes.
> 
> We are coming close to a time-jump, just a bit more fallout first, so, grab an umbrella for all the nuclear ash. Thanks for reading! FW)

* * *

Dean left the shop early and headed home, still turning over the morning's long and awkward conversation with Cas in his head, even as he started dinner.

Under normal circumstances, he was certain he would have found the tale of shenanigans from years past quite amusing, to say the least, but the fact that he hadn't heard it before the wedding was eating away at him. He felt as though Cas had kept it from him deliberately, even though Cas had maintained that he hadn't thought of it in years. 

It seemed Charlie had had a rich, childless aunt who had favored her as a child, but later rejected her when she came out. With a death-bed rewrite, said aunt had changed her will to be divided between her nieces and nephews who were married, with a grace period of one month following her death in a not so subtle jab to exclude Charlie, specifically. 

Cas' boyfriend at the time had been the one to suggest it, and soon Charlie and Cas approached Rabbi Jake, a known ally, for advice. Rabbi Jake had found it to be an amusing situation, but being sympathetic, he'd made some cryptic comments regarding platonic love, and agreed to act as their minister on the condition that the marriage license would never be filed with the state. 

Within the week, on Rabbi Jake's back patio, occurred what Charlie later termed a 'totes-besties grown-up friendship bracelet binding ceremony,' with words changed to reflect it as such. The good Rabbi filled out the very legal, and would-have-been-binding marriage license, trusting them to keep their word, and the following morning, they took a faked engagement photo and the license to the county newspaper to have the wedding announcement run. That night, still within the state-mandated waiting period, over a small bonfire and copious amounts of alcohol with good friends, the license was burned. 

The newspaper announcement and a fax of the license to the will's executor was enough that Charlie was able to inherit, and after padding her savings account well and donating a hefty sum to PFLAG in her late aunt's name, she had also attempted to share with both Cas and Alan. Cas being Cas, he had turned her down, and Alan, despite their habit of not discussing past relationships unless needed, Dean did recall a few things about _that_ guy, he'd happily taken the share of the money she'd offered. 

Cas had pulled the golden bracelet from a drawer as he'd filled in a few details, and Dean recalled seeing him wear it once or twice, thinking nothing of it at the time. Somehow, although he felt no animosity toward Charlie, even having her in their home as this had come to light, the secret of the not-quite marriage was eating away at him. The existence of the bracelet upstairs seemed to be more to blame than Charlie, although that might have been because Cas mentioned she had gotten on his case for not telling Dean to begin with. 

The front door shut loudly as Dean was sorting through his feelings, and he heard Cas' footsteps on the stairs as Ben stomped into the kitchen, leaning on the fridge dramatically, "Nobody told me you guys were dropping the charges." 

"Yeah?" Dean asked, "Was that your business?" 

"It's my business when I get dragged out of work trying to make some overtime because Pops needs me to leave my car back at the field because Xander has a practice." 

Dean nodded, "Okay. We dropped the charges. Xander's coach pulled something to get him back on the team right away. You're all caught up. Happy?" 

"Seriously? Just like that, but you couldn't say that this morning?" 

"Xander wasn't back on the team this morning. I had to take his gear down there as soon as I heard. And anyway, you're one of the kids in this situation, it's not our job to run everything by you." Dean replied, getting Ben to stand elsewhere as he ducked into the fridge for another ingredient. 

Ben's anger was increasing, Dean knew, but he was preoccupied and had intended to leave it to Ben to sort himself out. 

"It's my car, my job, and my canceled date being affected, here. Considering how rarely you run into town lately, you could just let him take your car, you know." 

Dean rolled his eyes, and he was certain Ben knew how ridiculous the suggestion was even as he'd made it. Even Cas, who seemed to appreciate the car, had only driven it once or twice, and Dean really only seemed to trust Claire with it. 

"You have a date on a school night?" Dean asked unsympathetically. 

"It's a teacher-in-service day tomorrow, no classes. Anyway, still, he'd have his own damn car if he didn't keep screwing shit up. I fixed mine, and I'm tired of having to share, that's all." 

Dean shrugged, "Nobody said it was fair, Ben. Life's not fair. But we do what we can, we pull this stuff together, as a family. And it's not like you take perfect care of your car, anyway, letting him use it to get home from practice isn't gonna kill you." 

Cas entered the kitchen on that note, as Ben gestured aggressively, "Great! Awesome! Anything else you want to forget to tell me? Take over my whole damn weekend, borrow some time off my future career to further Xander's mediocre sports talent that's never going to amount to shit after he graduates? Or are you going to keep telling me stuff after I already find out the hard way?" 

Dean, doing his best not to shoot Cas an icy glare, caught a look he was sure about, and Cas gave him a rolling hand gesture as if to say, 'Go ahead, might as well.' 

Dean nodded, "Yeah, actually, since Xander's not here, I guess it's a good time to get this out... Do you remember when Sam and Jess were having trouble conceiving?" 

Ben's eyebrows knitted, unsure of the new topic, "What?" 

"Okay, I guess you weren't listening in as much as I thought... Okay, um... They were having a really hard time with that, and not that it's your business, or anybody's, really, in DNA only, your cousin Emma is technically your half-sister." 

Ben balked for a moment, then sputtered as gears began to turn at a slow, reluctant grind, "You mean... Oh my god, you slept with Aunt Jess?" 

"What? No, I didn't sleep with her! There was-, it was a clinic, and doctors, and stuff, okay? Test tubes, and crap!" Dean replied too quickly to find any delicate way of putting it, having never expected Ben's reaction. 

"Then why didn't they just get an anonymous donor? Why you?" 

Seeing the fractured state of Dean's patience, Cas spoke up, "An anonymous donor would have been far more likely to have other anonymous children or possibly hereditary health conditions they may have forgotten to mention. Everyone involved in the decision had Emma's best interests at heart." 

"And you were part of that?" Ben asked. 

"Yes. Sam and Jess had very good reasons for asking Dean, and Dean had very good reasons to agree to the arrangement," Cas replied. 

"Yeah, nevermind that fact that you don't ever do something like that without the full support of your spouse," Dean added quickly, "But anyway, they've got a few embryos left, they're trying for a boy this time, so, you've probably got another cousin on the way soon, which would be the same arrangement." 

Dean turned back to the stove as Ben continued to sort through the information he'd just been given, "Oh, god, now all I can think about is the purebred English bulldog they inseminated last week at work." 

"That's not my fault," Dean replied, shaking it off. 

Cas pulled a bottle of water from the fridge, and started out of the kitchen before stopping in the doorway, "Of course, Ben, you do understand that Emma is very much Sam's daughter, and saying anything about this could seriously damage their relationship, don't you? And the fewer people know, the less likely that is to slip?" 

Ben nodded, "So basically, it doesn't leave this room?" 

"Exactly. Sam and Jess will tell their children when they are old enough to understand." 

"Then why tell me? Why take that risk?" Ben asked, his voice wavering between a place of confusion, and one of irritability. 

"Seemed like it was time," Dean said quietly. 

* * *

Xander had put in a fair amount of work during practice and had started to gather his things when one of his teammates asked him to make an appearance at a party that evening. It wouldn't have been quite so annoying if it hadn't been the fourth time he'd insisted that Xander had to show up.

Aware that Ben would already have gotten home with Cas, he caved, making a mental note to make an actual note to call home and mention it, a few more distractions had taken precedence, and before he knew it, he'd arrived at a house party, was ushered to a beer-pong game, and it had completely left his mind that he was out on the town with Ben's car. 

The music had been quiet enough that none of the neighbors had bothered to call the police, Jack had been around for a few hours before tracking Xander down once more. 

"Hey, I'm headed out," Jack said clearly, as Xander quickly realized with a glance into his cup that he'd lost count of his drinks that evening, "You good? Or you need a ride?" 

"Your mom needs a ride- No, wait, I took care of that," Xander snarked back. 

Jack laughed loudly, "Serious, though. If your dads call me, I'll try to cover for you, but if you want to crash, remember, I'm three blocks down. Walk, though, so you don't tear up the front yard." 

Xander carefully deposited himself into the corner of a sofa, pointing haphazardly at Jack as he did, "You... Yeah." 

"Yeah," Jack replied, gently punching his shoulder, "See ya." 

Xander nodded, "Ho-kay, bye. Asshole." 

One of his teammates, he couldn't for the life of him remember the guy's name at the moment but he was fairly certain it was one of the ones who wasn't obnoxious, wobbled up next to the couch, and without a word, tipped a generous portion of an unidentifiable amber liquid from a bottle into his cup. Come to think of it, it was probably the host of the party, whose parents were away. 

He looked around as the other boy wandered away again, certain he'd seen Trey, and he'd considered catching up with him, as they did very rarely. 

Xander was taken by surprise as a girl he couldn't place suddenly crawled onto the couch next to him, too close for comfort, "Split that with me, and I'll show you my new bellybutton ring." 

"Uh, Kara?" 

"Cora," she giggled, "Matt cut me off." 

"Cora. Right... Wait..." 

"Matt's my brother, you guys put on helmets and act like gorillas together?" 

"Oh... Yeah, yeah, I just-, y'know, took me a minute, sorry," Xander replied, quickly assessing the floor of the garage-turned-game-room, and finding it to be concrete, faked a fumble, and spilled the disposable cup in his hand. 

It quickly came back to him. There may have been two Matts at school, but the one with the twin sister also had an older brother in a fraternity, and there had been some rumors about a kid getting his teeth knocked out for hanging around Cora during their freshman year. He wasn't about to cause any sort of stress with a teammate by giving her alcohol, having heard she'd been told to stop. 

"My bad," Xander mumbled, looking at the resulting puddle just a bit too long. 

Cora, however, seemed to find it hilarious, and laughed loudly as she turned around in place, leaning back against his side, "Brain-drain, right? Aubrey said your brother tried to kill you." 

Xander was amused, but half ignoring her, replied, "Yeah, pretty much. He was jealous I got the bigger room." 

"What did your mom do?" 

"She died," Xander answered, his mind transferring to autopilot. 

"She didn't kick Ben's ass?" 

"My mom, or his mom?" 

Cora turned slightly to get a look at his face. He was certain he was too drunk to feel much of anything at that point, "Y'all have different moms?" 

"Dude, how long have you lived here?" Xander asked. 

Two more boys, and a girl he was fairly certain had already graduated, found their way to the other end of the couch, and Cora lost all interest in their discussion. He let his mind blank, watching the people coming and going, and accepting the occasional passing congratulation for getting back onto the team, but for the next half hour, he sat. Cora's occasional shift would remind him she was still there, still treating his much larger frame as an oversized cushion. 

He was vaguely aware of it when someone brought a round of what had to be the most disgusting jello shots in the world to the couch. 

As the party died down, so did the sounds, and he jerked awake suddenly at a slight movement, only to find Cora's head lolling over, off his shoulder. 

"Yo, Stansfield," at this, Xander looked up to find Trey addressing him loudly from across the room, "Go sleep it off someplace else." 

"It's as good a place as any." One of the guys and the girl at the other end of the couch had left at some point, and the remaining guy gave him the creeps, "Where's Matt?" 

"Matt and Harker are on a beer run. If you're not gonna wake up and keep up, get lost," Trey replied. 

Harker. That was Matt and Cora's older brother, and that was likely the reason for the age shift that had seemed to occur in the number of people who were still hanging around. Xander sat forward, then turned suddenly as Cora slipped to the cushions like a ragdoll behind him, making no effort to stop herself, and suddenly he had a very bad feeling about more than one person in the room, several of whom were now bursting with laughter. 

Xander shoved himself to his feet, and going entirely on instinct, scooped Cora up over his shoulder and started for the door, which had apparently been found even funnier, and several people were calling after them rudely. Trey's was the only voice he made out, but upon hearing it, the comment solidified his resolve, "Don't knock her up!" 

* * *

Claire had passed off closing up to Randy and Blake and started across the short distance to the small house, surprised to see the rental gone.

At the quiet sound of the front door, Alfie came around the corner from the kitchen, a smirk on his face that quickly softened. 

"What are you so happy about?" Claire asked. 

"She apologized." 

Claire suddenly looked concerned, "Did she hit her head? She could have been having a stroke, did you check on that before you let her drive?" 

Alfie rolled his eyes, "C'mon." 

"Okay... Fine. You know her better than I do." 

"She ran into town for a while, she'll be back in an hour for dinner. She said she wants to try to make stuff right with you, so I said you'd need some space to wind down after work. Get the cactus needles under control, and all." 

Claire nodded, "And Mel?" 

"Napping. Again. I'm thinking growth spurt." 

Claire sighed and started for the stairs, "As long as it's not another tooth." 

"Hey, Claire?" Alfie said softly, as she got to the second step, reaching for her waist as she turned slightly, "I know it's been insufferable, but I promise, I'm doing everything I can to fix it. Pretty sure she's going to lose interest and leave again soon, anyway." 

"How can you tell?" 

"Because she's starting to repeat herself. I used to count, when she'd come home from a trip, and when she'd told the same story three times, that I could keep track of, that was when she started planning to leave again." 

There was a neglected tone in his voice that made Claire's heart ache, but as much as she wanted to embrace him, she was currently focused on her own side of the many-faceted problem. She had her own suffering to concern herself with. Instead, she nodded and made for the bathroom upstairs to shower and change. 

Alfie waited patiently at the foot of the stairs, even as the shower began to run, and looked down at his wedding ring. Claire had been so distant for days, he was afraid to approach her without some hint of an invitation, but the invitation never came. At the same time he was concerned what her own needs might be, other than for him to act as a barrier between her, and the abuse she was taking from his mother. 

He had started for the living room, but likely from the sound of the shower, he could hear Melody waking up, and started up the stairs. He leaned on the side of the crib as Melody settled, looking up at him with an intense pout that threatened real tears. 

"It's a good thing you can't talk yet, Melody," Alfie whispered, "Because I have to get something off my chest... You can't even walk yet, and already, I'm more like my parents than I want to be... If you ever wonder if I'm not coming home, I'll have failed you as a parent." 

Melody squirmed onto her side as he heard the water shut off, and he picked her up, noting a runny nose, and stopped at the changing table for a wipe to clear it before heading for the bedroom as Claire emerged in a towel. 

"Is she hungry?" 

"Maybe. You might have a few minutes, though." 

With a shrug, Claire headed to the closet, "Are we going anywhere for dinner?" 

"No, it's cooking," Alfie replied. 

Sticking to her guns regarding not changing things on Rachel's account, Claire pulled out yoga pants and an oversized college sweatshirt, both comfortable enough to double as pajamas, and started changing into them, "Lucas said Ivan's going to be a guest host on some radio show next week. Shock jocks, or something, some morning thing. I guess that would be good if it wasn't for the whole thing with the rumors that got everyone talking in the first place." 

"About him harassing an underage girl? Sorry, I mean, I heard him call you all kinds of things, doesn't seem completely impossible." 

Claire shook her head, "That's not who he is. Even Julie turned out kind of okay, I'm pretty sure the rest of it is just me holding onto high school bullshit, but, y'know, I don't think I'd freak out if they watched Melody if there was an emergency." 

"You don't think there's any truth to it?" 

"There's a picture of him pulling someone along by the arm, that's it. I did the same thing to Julie, and a couple years later, she thanked me for it. Now, if that girl had said something was going on, that's different, but even her mom thinks Ivan's okay. Ben said Ivan had good reasons..." 

"I doubt Ben heard that straight from Ivan," Alfie replied as Claire took Melody from him, and headed for the couch. 

"He might have. He got enough guitar lessons from the guy. They might still be in contact." 

"Hm... I guess you really wouldn't be worried about him, then, you were pretty protective once you finally got some younger siblings." 

Claire scoffed, "Whatever." 

Alfie ducked into the kitchen to check on the dinner, then came back to the living room as Claire had gotten Melody latched, "Don't bother trying to deny it, you're a protector. You get grumpy about it, too, like Dean and Bobby." 

"Wow, you almost made that sound maternal for a second." 

"Are you saying Dean's not?" Alfie asked with a hint of humor, "And anyway, if you didn't like having him for a mom, you wouldn't keep giving him presents on mothers day." 

"Best mom I ever had. I should start growing whiskers so I can be just like him." Claire replied. 

* * *

When Rachel arrived at the small house in the junkyard that evening, she was under no illusions that dinner would be any more than a basic meal, and being cooked by her own son rather than a housekeeper, less than pleasant. It was her attempt to make peace that pushed her to go, and then, only because it seemed to be what Alfie wanted from her.

She was certain she had to be capable of being diplomatic enough to quell whatever bad blood seemed to be brewing between herself and that... Well, there was a grandchild to think of. She would put her best foot forward and regain control of the situation before things got any further out of hand. 

During a quiet moment, Rachel had turned the conversation to Claire's family, asking if Claire's father had ever taught her any German, a round about way of looking for some hint that Claire might have picked up some French at the same time, and did her best to hide a pleased look when she found out it wasn't so. Rachel then cleverly, or so she thought, threw the subject off slightly by bringing up Cas' talent in the kitchen, and asked if he'd taught Claire to cook. 

"Sure, yeah. I mean, I had the basics down out of neccessity when I moved here, but it was never any good until I started learning a few things from him," Claire answered, considering it a rather innocuous peek into her life, unable to see any way the information could be used against her. 

Alfie glanced toward the living room, where Melody was happily chewing on a toy on her blanket, and considered a few things Claire had mentioned regarding food at her mother's house that had only come out during the worst of her pregnancy cravings. It was one more thing he swore his own child would never experience, but he couldn't help nagging feelings of pain surfacing out of sympathy. 

"Samandriel says you knew Kevin before you met him. How did you meet Kevin?" Rachel asked with a friendly, gentle tone. 

Claire nodded, "He was getting bullied, and the first week of ninth grade, he got shoved into a bathroom by a couple of homophobic morons. I gave him my lipstick, and suddenly those idiots were too uncomfortable to keep hounding him." 

Rachel gave a genuine laugh, "So now we know where your makeup went." 

Claire chuckled slightly, "Yeah, well, that shade was too dark for me anyway. Works better on a brunette." 

"Who was bothering Kevin, then?" 

"Oh, that would be a boy I later dated, Will, and a few of his friends." 

"You dated a bully?" 

Claire shrugged, "Yeah, it seemed like the thing to do at the time. I don't know, I guess some things you just have to learn the hard way." 

"Did you sleep with him?" 

"Mom!" Alfie snapped. 

"No," Claire answered with a surprised blink. 

Rachel didn't seem to take note of Alfie's reaction, "The boy you were seeing, or Kevin?" 

"What?" Claire asked, "Neither of them." 

"Then you were a virgin when you met my son?" Rachel asked as though it were the most natural question in the world. 

"That's none of your business," Claire said quickly. 

Rachel shrugged, "If you were, you'd have nothing to be ashamed of, and you would say that you were. Obviously, you can't say it, or you would." 

"Ashamed?" Claire asked, "You mean, like you should be, for asking in the first place?" 

"It's a simple question, as young as you are, provided you aren't some kind of whore." 

Claire's face froze in horror, but Alfie didn't notice it at all as he had turned in his seat, "You can't speak to my wife like that." 

"I can speak any way I want," Rachel shot back. 

"Get out," Alfie growled. 

Rachel scoffed, apparently entirely incapable of doing anything but escalating, "Some son you are, with your gold-digging whore wife, and your redneck hovel. She won't be faithful to you. Your soft heart made for a soft head, and you let her trap you with a child." 

Alfie had slid his chair back slightly, and fully turned toward Rachel, and in a very calm but firm voice, spoke to her quickly and quietly. Claire couldn't understand a word of it, but once he'd stopped, Rachel immediately began screaming back at him with a rage Claire was certain couldn't possibly be warranted. 

Rachel continued to spout off loudly, gesturing to Claire, and into the living room at one point, but all Claire could focus on was the fact that Alfie had stood up and left the small dining area, and with only the two of them in the room, she felt exposed, left to be the sole target of Rachel's tirade that she had no way of understanding. 

In seconds, Alfie came back into the room, having picked up Rachel's purse from a shelf in the hallway where she'd left it, and took hold of her upper arm. She was still yelling at him, but the words seemed to change slightly as she was forcefully marched through the front door. He closed it, locking it behind her, and turned around even as Rachel slapped at the door a couple of times. He turned off the porch light, and found Claire standing near the foot of the stairs, a broken and lost look in her eyes for the brief seconds he was able to hold her gaze before she looked down. 

He had seen too much of her fear and anger thoughout the time they'd been together to write off her behavior as anything resembling normal. He approached her carefully, but she turned slightly, trying to hold ground without acknowledging his attempts to get her to face him. In the living room, Melody was starting to fuss, likely from the loud voices and the general stress in the house. 

"Claire," Alfie said quietly, trying to get her to raise her head, finding tears as they began to fall silently, "I'm so sorry, I really thought she wanted to... Claire, please..." 

Getting nowhere, and growing only more concerned with the way she seemed to shut down, Alfie pressed her back toward the table, physically insisting she sit down on the chair that still sat askew from the table where he'd stood only moments before, and sank to his knees to find her face. He took both her hands in his right, and put the palm of his left over her heart, "Do you know what that is? ...That's the other half of my soul." 

"I need to get Melody," Claire whispered, still avoiding his eyes. 

"She's fine, she can wait a few minutes, this is important," Alfie insisted, "There have been a lot of times I've let you down, but walking away when Will had your back to the wall, that was the first time I failed you." 

"You didn't even know me, then." 

"Doesn't matter. If I had done the right thing when it happened, it wouldn't still bother me, even now. Claire... please... Can you forgive me for walking away?" 

Claire nodded, and her breath began to change, tears flowing faster as she avoided speaking. Alfie brought his hand to the back of her neck and kissed her softly. 

"This is never going to happen again, I swear," Alfie said quietly, "I've been a coward about too much for too long, and I'm done. I will defend you from anything, forever. I mean that." 

Claire looked away and started shaking her head, "She's right." 

"She's not. She's wrong about everything." 

"No, she, um-," Claire paused and swallowed hard, "I cheated on you with Kevin." 

Alfie's face quickly went from confused to skeptical, as though he were waiting for a punchline, "You-... what?" 

"Before the wedding," Claire answered, her voice straining past the sobs she stifled, "Margaret's birthday, we were all playing Cards Against Humanity, and we, um, we were on the couch-" 

Alfie dropped his head to her shouldrer with a chuckle, "No... That's not what happened. You both had too many, and Margaret and I were two feet away, working on the design she wanted for that tattoo on the coffee table. You two were just kissing, and it was actually kind of funny at the time." 

Claire rubbed roughly at her cheek, even as he pulled her closer to hold her, "But that's not okay, I made out with your best friend-" 

"Maybe Margaret and I should have split you up sooner, but you'd just stopped yelling at each other, we were just glad it got quiet for a while... Besides, he kissed me at a gallery last year, remember? If I got angry or jealous about this, I'd be a huge hypocrite... I'm sorry, I guess this is my fault, too." Claire shook her head again, still trying to calm herself, but the words wouldn't form correctly. He pulled her snug to his chest, "Hey... It's okay... I'll kick Kevin's ass when he gets back, if you want me to." 

Claire shook her head against his shoulder, shaking somewhat as Melody's complaints from the next room grew louder, "Now what?" 

Alfie shrugged slightly, "Now, I go pick up Mel before she crawls in here and tells us off, we have a nice dinner, and we call it a night." 

Claire stiffened slightly as she sat back, letting go of him. He stood and went to the living room, as he'd said, picking up Melody as Claire moved back to her own seat, and Alfie came back to the table, sitting down with Melody on his lap. It was unavoidable to him that Claire was disconsolate, despite his promise. 

"Claire?" 

She looked up, her eyes still red, but clearly still building up the defenses his mother had brutaly torn down, ever the good soldier, as much as it killed him to see it. 

"She had her chance, and she blew it. That's not your fault, either." Alfie said softly. 

* * *


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: New chapter! It's 2am, so, thanks for reading, I'm gonna sleep now. FW)

* * *

The front door behind Dean opened quietly, and Cas came out to stand beside him on the porch, "Ben's still trying to make contact with one of the boys from the team, but Jack called back, he told Ben that Xander was out at a party... Of course, we aren't supposed to know that... Ben needs to turn his call volume down, or get his hearing checked."

"What do you think?" Dean asked.

Cas took a deep breath, "If he was likely to try driving drunk, he'd be home right now. Jack offered to let him sleep it off at his house, so he has a safe haven close by. He hasn't had an easy time socially, and this isn't exactly a habit for him... I think we should wait, let him bolster his reputation, and sort him out when he gets home."

"Yeah, but, is he safe?"

Cas shrugged, "He's turning eighteen next year. And as Claire so helpfully pointed out to me once, he could just as easily ruin his life in the middle of the morning."

"I'm still worried," Dean grumbled.

"Yes, well, statistically speaking, given his gender, size, and strength, he's less likely to have any problems."

Dean shrugged, "You never would have let Claire stay out all night."

"Not rounding him up and dragging him home is not the same as allowing it."

* * *

Claire rolled over in the dark, finding herself alone in the bed, but she was certain she heard voices coming from downstairs. The kitchen was directly below her, and every now and again, she heard the sink run.

She checked the clock on the bedside table, and pulled her sweatshirt back on, bare feet padding down the stairs as the voices became audible.

Alfie was at the sink, cleaning up the delayed mess that had been dinner several hours before, and he had his phone sitting on the windowsill before him as he scrubbed, moving items to the dishwasher. Claire leaned on the wall, close enough to make out Naomi's voice over the speaker.

_"She cried for an entire hour."_

"She had twice that coming to her," Alfie replied sweetly, "But she's my mom, so I didn't have the heart to say what I really thought."

_"You said plenty! She actually wrote it all down, and sent it in an email to me, and copied it to your father."_

"Hm. Maybe she was exaggerating, you know how she gets," he replied dismissively.

_"God, you sound just like him, sometimes. Heartless bastard..."_ Claire could hear a few clicks through the phone that had to be Naomi pulling up the email, _"Okay, let's see, you told her 'You're a dried up old hag?'"_

"Uh, yeah. I guess I did start with that." Alfie confirmed.

_"She says you also said she was, and I quote her, 'jealous that no one will ever love her,' you said that, too?"_

"Strong opener, yeah."

_"So then I expect that we can assume you also said 'you're going to die alone and miserable, and it won't bother me at all, because... I will be here, in my... redneck hovel?... with my perfect wife, too happy to care.' Is that right? You said all of that to your mother? The woman who brought you into this world?"_

"Wow... Did she translate that for you? Because if so, she's gotten good."

_"Don't try to change the subject."_

"I'm not, I'm just thinking about how much more time I have before I have to put her in a home, since I figured what with being told earlier today not to upset Claire, and then she called her a whore not six hours later, maybe her mind was starting to go. And as her only child, if she needs full time care, I have to see that she gets it, preferably far away from me, since she gets so upset by being anywhere near my wife."

_"Samandriel, I swear, I will come down there myself, and you do not want-"_

"Fired? You're firing me? Oh, wait, we both know you've got that backwards."

_"Do you know how hard it was to get her to come see you in the first place? And here you are, running her off again. Just left her standing on the porch, for how long?"_

"Well, her car was right there, it's not my fault if she wasn't bright enough to get in it," Alfie replied, "And, anyway, I never ran her off before this, so don't try to pin her leaving when I was a kid on me."

Claire could tell from Naomi's straining voice that the conversation wouldn't last much longer.

_"Then what? Later, when you weren't picking up? What was so important you couldn't answer her while she was trying to call you? She wanted to apologize!"_

"I was busy."

_"Doing what?"_

"Stuff."

_"Stuff? ...What 'stuff?'"_

Alfie moved the last dish to the dishwasher, and leaned on the edge of the sink, "Well, if you really want to know, and let me warn you, this is personal, after I kicked the bitch out of my house, I went upstairs and made love to my wife while three of my friends cheered me on, and her girlfriend fucked me in the ass with an overripe banana and sang God Save the Queen. Then, we had refreshments and went over the play-by-play. Did you want me to send you the video? What am I saying? Of course you do. I'll have a link for you by morning."

_"You are absolutely disgusting, Samandriel,"_ Naomi started in as he reached for the phone, picking it up, and looking down at the half of the sink that still held the tepid, used dishwater, _"Your father is going to hear about all of this, I hope your mother writes you out of her will. Just absolutely disgust-"_

Samandriel let the phone slip from his hand into the water, "Yeah, well, at least I'm not you."

With the call ended, he turned around to find Claire watching him from the edge of the room, and jumped slightly, "Hey... Everything okay? I could have brought you up a drink... Or, were you looking for another round?"

"I don't know," Claire said quietly, "I think that was the last banana."

Alfie shrugged one shoulder, "I can make do."

For the first time in far too long, Claire cracked up, and Alfie couldn't help but smile, relieved to hear it, and wrapped his arms around her.

"Did you really say that to her?" Claire asked in a whisper as her face fell slightly.

"I, um... I had to make a stand, right?" Alfie replied, "I wish you hadn't heard it, but I'm not going to lie."

Claire nodded, clearly more in acknowledgment rather than agreement, "Okay... And what about the rest of it? What was she yelling at you when you dragged her out of here?"

Alfie squirmed slightly, avoiding her eyes, and Claire refused to look away.

"Cut it out. You have your little secrets most of the time, I want to know. You can't let something this huge happen right in front of me and not tell me."

"Nothing I haven't heard from her before."

Claire shrugged, "This could affect your job performance. Don't make me pull rank on you."

"Rules don't apply to me," Alfie answered quickly, "I'm the manager's mistress."

"That has to be how you get away with being out for over a month without getting fired, but I still need to know."

Alfie had grown more anxious as they stood, shifting and looking away, and Claire could see a hint of a cringe in his expression as he answered slowly, "She said... Well, I only caught parts of it, but she called me ungrateful, she called both of us horrible people, and somewhere in there, she said that... that, um, children like me should die in the cradle."

Claire's jaw dropped slightly with a gasp, a range of negative emotions playing on her face as Alfie tried to shrug it off as a mild insult, "And she's said that before?"

"It's how she is, I can't make her... she's never, um..." Alfie became lost in his struggle for words, and shook his head again.

Claire pulled him close and held him tightly, "You know that whole 'wishing people dead' thing isn't okay, right? I mean, just... God, she really fucked you up."

"I know, I went too far with that, but-... I'm sorry. Even if you couldn't understand it, I still said it, and in front of Melody, and... I don't know what she wants, I'm just tired of trying to be a robot for her, and nothing's ever good enough, you know?"

Claire shook her head, "Not really. I know how to be the robot, but it's still hell getting pushed into somebody's mold like that, getting treated like property. That part, I get... So this is why, right? The way you talk, most of the time, even to people you can't stand, you always try to build people up, and then every now and again, you slip, and just rip into somebody, and act guilty later. This is where you learned it, right? It's what she does?"

"It's not going to stop, I get that," Alfie said softly against her hair, "It's who she is, it won't change... I might write and apologize for what I said, but it's going through a lawyer and telling her not to contact any of us again."

Claire shrugged, "I can take it to her. Wrap it around a brick-"

"No."

"Okay. Well, if you're done down here, you should probably sleep," Claire said, giving him a nudge toward the stairs.

"If I could sleep, I'd still be upstairs with you."

"Fine, don't sleep, but I was going to let you do that thing where you pull the sheet around us so tight I can't move."

* * *

"So," Charlie said quietly as she drove, "Still no answer?"

Ben shook his head, "I don't know how many more times I can scream at his voicemail. I think his battery died."

"And Jack said he was sure Xander was at the party last night?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. So he's probably been drinking, and should get a ride with one of us in case he's hungover."

Ben scoffed, "He can get a ride from somebody else. Dipshit can't even pick up his damn phone, running off with my car without telling me, let alone asking."

"Doesn't seem fair... What happened to the car he was supposed to fix up?"

"Hell if I know. Might be scrap, now."

Ben stared out the window as they approached the approximate address Jack had given him, spotting his car. The driver's side window was half open, and the tires were firmly against the curb. Ben planned to bring that up later in front of Dean, sure he'd give Xander a better lecture about it than he could do himself.

Ben quickly examined his car for damage as Charlie sat idling in the middle of the sleepy neighborhood street. The sun wasn't completely up, and the roads were empty.

"I don't feel right leaving him here, if you don't want to track him down, you can give me the address, I'll try to fish him out and get him home," Charlie called through the passenger window.

Ben shrugged as it crossed his mind the type of trouble he might find himself in were he to come home with his car, but without Xander, "Nah, I'll go get him. Working for the district, you're probably a mandated reporter, anyway. You'd have to call in a bunch of unsupervised drunk teenagers."

Charlie shrugged innocently, but it was enough to let him know he'd guessed correctly.

With an eyeroll inherited from Dean, and a take-no-prisoners look he'd modeled after Cas', Ben approached the house with quiet purpose, and found the front door unlocked. Remnants of the previous night littered the floors of the home, including a few of the leftover celebrants. Semi seated on the sofa in the main living room, he spotted Trey, unconscious and drooling into his sleeve. He chose a dry spot by Trey's shoulder, and shook him awake.

"Sup?" Trey grunted, nearly incoherent.

"You seen Xander?" Ben asked.

"Ug, fuck, I don't know."

"Trey- c'mon, Jack said he was here last night, my car's still here, and he never made it to Jack's house."

"Xander... Oh. Heh, yeah, fucking crazy Cora." Trey mumbled, attempting to settle himself back in.

"What?"

"I said he was probably fucking Crazy Cora. Down the hall. She was out last night, just, y'know, trashed, he just walked off with her."

Ben was sure that Trey had to have confused Xander with someone else, but decided on a whim to check, and slipped down the hallway.

He came to a door that would only open a crack, but the glimpse he could get showed a fairly feminine room, and he threw himself harder against the door, shoving it open. On the floor, he found Xander, feet against the door, and an arm over Cora.

A half-full bottle of what might have been water sat on the tall dresser by the door, and Ben emptied it over his brother, only to be hit with the fumes. Vodka, most likely. At least he knew which car Xander was riding home in.

Xander sat up abruptly at the feeling of the fluid, "What the shit? Ben!? What?"

Xander's booming voice woke Cora, who was clearly feeling under the weather from the night before, but in her attempts to back away from Xander and his rather heavy arm, only managed to knee him hard in the groin.

"Hey, Cora," Ben said, "Just came to get my car, unfortunately, I gotta get this guy out of here, too. You okay?"

Cora sat up, looking around, finding herself on the floor of her own bedroom, "I don't..."

Xander came to an abrupt realization why Cora suddenly checked her clothing was in place. "Nothing happened," he assured her.

Cora didn't seem to register his words as she moved further back, a cry apparently setting itself up in her voice, "What did you do?"

"Nothing, I just told you that."

Ben shot him a skeptical look.

"Then why are you in here?" Cora asked, her voice panicked, trying to get to her feet with a sizeable wobble.

"You don't have a lock. Anybody could've come in here, and you were passed out," Xander replied.

Cora caught the footboard of her bed, still stumbling, as Xander carefully got to his feet, "So, what, you try to protect me, thinking I'll just reward you with it later?"

"That is the last thing on my to-do list, trust me. I just want to get out of here," Xander replied.

"Yeah, you can probably trust him, he's got no interest in girls. Do you need a ride home?" Ben asked, unaware.

Cora shook her head, gave a larger unsteady motion, and nearly fell to the floor, as Xander caught her by the upper arm, and she promptly heaved the contents of her stomach onto Xander's shirt.

"By the way," Ben said softly, "You're riding with Charlie."

* * *

The front porch was clear, and Xander ducked around the end of the house, hoping to clean up a bit with the garden hose in the back yard before anyone tracked him down.

Charlie had been quiet, and very clear that it wasn't her place to say anything, assuring him he'd probably get plenty from Dean. Ben had taken his car key, and he was sure he wasn't going to get it back, not now.

He rounded the corner, stripping out of the shirt that still reeked of vomit and vodka, and suddenly found himself face to face with Dean.

Dean was slowly coming to see more of his father's features in his own face every time he looked in the mirror, as much as he resented it, and that morning was no exception. It had been a fairly rough night, even after he and Cas had agreed to wait and track Xander down in the morning. Hours of whispers guessing and second-guessing every parenting choice that had led to this point. It had all chalked up to nothing.

Dean looked Xander over quickly, shrugged, and gestured his coffee cup toward the shirt in Xander's hand, "Well... I'm listening."

Xander awkwardly shuffled around Dean and made it to the hose tap, turning it on low, "Okay, I'm sorry."

"That's not what I want to hear."

Xander began spraying out the shirt, occasionally splashing a handful of the frigid water on his arms, well aware that Cas had joined them, standing further off, "Then I don't know what you want to hear. You want to put words in my mouth, Dad? Write it down, I'll recite it back to you when I'm done."

"Xander-" Dean growled.

"No, I don't know what you want me to say. I apologized, okay? I'm just trying to-"

"I don't care if you're sorry, I want to know why. Because trying to figure out why you would stay out all night without a head's up, that's what had us up all night. I know you have Ben's number memorized, and everybody's got two or three goddamn phones these days. Any reasonable explanation? Car broke down in the middle of nowhere, and the only charger broke, too? Fine. Hanging out at Jack's place and lost track of time, I can deal with that. Kidnapped? Abducted by aliens? Sure. Got pissed off at us and hid out at Claire's? No problem, not even mad. But this? You're covered hard alcohol and puke, and you can't tell me this was some late night cram session gone bad."

Xander shrugged, "Yeah, well, life after high school, right? I honestly don't care. I'm covered in this shit, and you want to bug me about this right now?"

"How hard is it to say you got drunk and passed out at a party?" Dean snapped.

"I didn't pass out, I nodded off! And then I got up, I was gonna go sleep it off at Jack's, and this girl I was talking to just fell the fuck over, okay? With a bunch of assholes around. I couldn't take her out of there, because she lives there, it would've been kidnapping, and I couldn't just leave her, so what do you think I was supposed to do? You go ahead and tell me what I was supposed to do! Tell me I should've left her there!" Xander yelled back, throwing the shirt and the water hose on the ground, shaking with anger.

Dean was still fuming, but he dropped his voice, "Is that the truth?"

"Dean-" Cas attempted to interject, stepping closer.

"No, I'm spouting bullshit to get out of trouble!" Xander quipped.

"How much of it is true?" Dean asked firmly. 

"Every word," Xander answered, staring Dean down.

"And she's okay?" Dean asked.

"She was when we left. Ben dumped part of this on me, she woke up, racked me, and then blew chunks all over my shirt." Xander griped.

Ben had slipped out onto the back porch unnoticed, finally speaking up, "Was that all she blew?"

"Shut the fuck up, Ben!" Xander yelled in response as Cas gave Ben a stern look and pointed at the door, a silent order to go back inside.

Cas turned back around as the door closed behind Ben, addressing Xander, "Go inside and clean up, if anything else needs said, it will wait. And drink some water."

Xander quickly ducked and grabbed his thrown shirt from the ground, his agitated motions making it clear he meant to storm into the house, but Dean caught his shoulder and took the shirt from him before jerking his head toward the door, "Go on. I got this."

Cas watched as Xander, now slightly subdued, made his way into the house as Dean picked up the garden hose, and continued to spray the debris out of the shirt. He rubbed the back of his neck, and looked around the yard, "Was that the answer you needed?"

Dean shrugged, "I wanted to know why, and once you get past all the drinking, he had a good reason... Not gonna lessen the punishment any, but..."

"You still think this warrants a punishment?"

"He was out all night, with Ben's car, and he was drinking. And not just like a beer or two, like we both said we'd overlook at home, after eighteen, I mean, he's hungover. Kids only get hungover if they were going for hours, or drank enough to take down a horse," Dean explained, "But at the same time, the stuff that really mattered, he made the right choice."

Cas shifted slightly, shaking his head, "Do you suppose he would have done the same if Claire hadn't spoken to the boys in the shop the other day?"

"Sure as hell hope he would. Though I know what you're thinking, makes it hit closer to home, and honestly, probably for the best."

* * *

Claire had gotten Melody down for her first nap easily enough, and managed a shower and coffee, making herself comfortable on the couch. Her damp hair hung in clumps, brushing her pale satin robe as she reached for the remote.

She heard the bike, the soft footsteps on the porch, and Alfie's key in the door, not surprised at all when he walked in, a new phone already to his ear. Claire muted the television, and reached over the back of the couch, catching him by the belt buckle when he tried to pass her, causing him to stop abruptly.

"I don't care what she wants... Even you see her as a spoiled child, the only difference between you two is you can be reasoned with... Again, don't care. You say you don't have my number, you can't give her what you don't have," Alfie answered, using the voice that only came out when speaking to Naomi. He still had his gloves on, and held the phone with one hand, and his helmet with the other.

Claire slowly started tracing her fingers over the front of his jeans, resulting in Alfie resting his hip against the couch, resting his helmet on it, and leaning forward slightly, even as he continued to speak. She slowly slipped her hand between his legs to cup him firmly, watching as he bit his lip for a moment.

"No, I have to go... I have a meeting... I'm meeting with HR, because the manager at work is sexually harassing me... No, I will not be serious... 'K, bye," Alfie ended the call, putting the phone in the helmet and quickly setting them on the coffee table as he rounded the end of the couch, and climbed onto Claire's lap, straddling her legs. His breathing made obvious what the thick fabric of his jeans somehow managed to hide, "Okay, I'm all yours, and I'm guessing you're only doing this because we have time?"

Claire smirked and nodded, tipping her head back as he ran leather-clad fingers down her throat and chest, gently shifting the fabric aside to continue down her breasts, carefully avoiding her nipples.

"Just so you know," Alfie whispered, "You married a complete moron... I wasted a lot of time dodging you when Bobby was alive, but if I had known how you would get... I was an idiot."

"We weren't ready for that," Claire replied, "Hell, we weren't ready when we started, but we did pretty good taking a couple steps back when we did."

He shook his head, "I should have parked it on your front walkway sometime when your dad wasn't home, and refused to leave until you agreed to go to the movies with me."

Claire chuckled, "And gotten a gun shoved in your face?"

The robe completely askew, Alfie slipped his hands behind her back, still caressing bare skin, coming close to kiss her, mumbling against her lips, "Worth it."

Claire caught him by a thigh and a hip, shoving him over onto the couch on his back, and climbing astride his hips, kissing him with such ferocity it was nearly a tackle. She sat up again, speaking before he could protest, "We left the whole box upstairs, didn't we?"

"Uh..."

She climbed off of him, "Back in a minute."

"Did you want the gear on or off?" Alfie called after her.

Claire was back downstairs with the small foil packet before he had a chance to repeat himself.

* * *


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: When it rains, it pours.
> 
> Y'all Wi-No's need to stop hurting each other's feelings, I swear! Why do you do this? Alternatively, why do I do this to you?
> 
> Okay, seriously, though... Story... Thanks for reading! FW)

* * *

As Xander trotted downstairs, his hair still wet from the shower, he didn't have much on his mind aside from scavenging in the kitchen, and getting back to the solitude of his bedroom. He spotted Cas at the kitchen table, and looked around, finding the downstairs as quiet and empty as the upstairs.

"Dad went to work?" Xander asked.

"Yes, he did. Ben says the young lady he's seeing agreed to a lunch date to make up for the one they had to cancel yesterday evening on account of your practice, and Charlie is out looking at a duplex," Cas informed him.

With no response, the house went silent. Xander shrugged, and went for the pantry, shuffling through prepackaged junk foods.

"Xander," Cas said quietly, setting his tablet down on the table, "I understand the last time you tried to get a car running you'd had a particularly rough breakdown, and I know that can be difficult to move on from. But you need your own vehicle, and I'm afraid you don't have the time to dedicate to a job in order to buy outright."

"I would if I quit school," Xander muttered.

"You promised that suggestion wouldn't come up again," Cas said sternly, "You have your whole life ahead of you, and everyone in this family will do what they can to help you succeed... Even if your path seems a little hazy right now."

Xander closed the pantry door firmly, "There's nothing 'hazy' about it. No reason to pull punches, either, I'm a screw up. I came from nothing but a big pile of garbage, and I'm going to end up nothing but a big pile of garbage."

"Xander-"

"Okay, fine, nothing but a pile of garbage, but with a high school diploma, and only because I promised Dad. But he doesn't have one, and he's still making more out of his life than I ever will."

Cas, frustrated, shook his head, "Clearly you're not in a good place right now, but all I am asking you to do at this point is make another attempt at fixing up one of the cars. You've put in twice as many hours at the shop as Ben has, at this point you'd probably do a better job than he did with the Mustang."

Xander shrugged, not meeting his eyes.

"If something's the matter, I think I could better help you if I know what it is," Cas said softly.

"It's, um... keeping me here."

"What is?"

Xander scratched at the back of his neck, and leaned against the fridge, his large frame budging it slightly, "Having to come back... Like, if I have to bring somebody's car back, that keeps me from just... taking off?"

"There's nothing wrong with wanting to see the world, but somehow, I don't think that's what you mean."

Looking at the floor, Xander shook his head.

"Do you think you'd be happier somewhere else?"

"...Not happy, anywhere," Xander mumbled, "Just, I guess, I mean, Ben was only pissed about the car, you guys were pissed because I was missing, right?"

Cas nodded, "I can't speak for Ben, but yes, Dean and I were very concerned about you."

Xander took a deep breath, still avoiding looking at Cas but shot him a furtive glance, "Okay."

With a heavy heart, Cas watched Xander head back upstairs, well aware of the burden Xander carried, and his own inability to lift it from his son's shoulders.

* * *

Randy leaned into the door frame of the tiny office with an apologetic look in his eyes, "Claire?"

"Yeah?" she replied, deeply involved in the fine print of a possible contract with a car insurance company.

"There's some lady on the phone, wants to talk to a 'Mrs Alford?' If you want to admit any such person exists?"

"Lemme guess, she sounds like that cartoon skunk?"

Randy shrugged, "Uh, I guess. Definitely not from here."

Claire rolled her eyes, "Just when I thought we were done with this crap, we're going another round. Yeah, I'll take it in here."

Randy nodded and pulled the door shut behind him as Claire picked up the phone on the heavy desk, taking the call from the first line.

"Singer Automotive, this is Claire Novak," she answered, putting an emphasis on her family name.

 _"Claire, thank you for answering,"_ Rachel responded with a carefully paced cadence. It was obvious she was keeping a careful watch on her words and her temper, although she hated to do it.

Claire straightened up in her seat and adopted a more formal tone, "Just so we're clear, this is a business line, it wouldn't be professional to sit here and discuss shoes all day."

_"No, of course not. I'll be quick-"_

"And I am not about to pass on any messages, if my husband doesn't want to speak to you, that is his decision, and I stand by it."

Rachel was silent for more than a breath, clearly choosing her words delicately, _"I understand... Even if I don't agree. But I am leaving soon, and I would like to say goodbye to my granddaughter. You know, in case the plane were to crash, or something."_

Claire nearly snorted at the idea of saying goodbye to an infant in case of her sudden demise rather than making a sincere attempt to reconcile with her adult son, who had been hurt by her words, and would be the one who would remember her. It didn't take much to see guilt-laced excuse for what it was, a manipulation. She sat back in her chair, "I'll discuss the possibility with him. If he's okay with that, it'll be somewhere public, and everyone has to be on their best behavior. I honestly don't think he'll want to see you, though, and I'm not saying that to be mean, just to warn you, he might stay home."

_"Well, they say beggars can't be choosers, don't they?"_

For a brief second, Claire had a mental image of Rachel, stripped of her finery, homeless, clothed in tatters, holding a rough cardboard sign at an intersection in a busier city than she'd ever lived in, but somehow she couldn't shake the look of the older woman's usual hair and makeup. She supposed, emotionally speaking, it was very likely true, "What's a good number to reach you?"

* * *

"You're still unhappy with me," Cas whispered in the darkness.

On the other side of the bed, his face half smushed into his pillow, Dean only grumbled, "...tired."

"Tired wouldn't account for the number of times you've walked past me, even in private, without the slightest hint of affection-"

"Fine," Dean answered quickly, fumbling to a near sitting position and wiping the corner of his mouth, "What? What do you want that's gonna let me sleep?"

"Do you still feel married to Lisa?"

"Cas-" from Dean's warning, he could tell he'd struck more nerve than he had intended.

"Sometimes I think you and Ben would have been far better off if she'd lived, and I certainly don't begrudge you your memories. But the vows you made to her have no bearing on our marriage. It doesn't cause me any pain. I'm just trying to understand why something far more trivial would have you reacting like this... You're avoiding me as if I've done something wrong, when we both agreed we didn't want to share too much about past relationships, and you're well aware that I've done far more than fake a marriage."

"Cas," this time his voice has resumed his typical sleepy grumble, "Can it wait?"

"Of course. How many more days do you plan to avoid me?"

"I'm not. I'm jus-"

"Then what do you call it?" Cas asked with a snap, "Because I'm having trouble thinking of another time we've ever been this distant."

Dean sat the rest of the way up, "Really? Okay, I'm awake, so let's get this done with, because I'm not having this discussion again tomorrow night."

"I honestly didn't think that particular chapter of my life warranted a conversation. Obviously, I was wrong, but I'm not sure your reaction is entirely justifiable."

Dean nodded, "Okay, well, then since I'm not allowed to feel hurt and lied to, I guess I'll just stop. Better?"

"Dean-"

"No. Nothing you say is going to speed this up, but it can sure as hell slow it down. I need to take the time to think, and you need to back off and give me a couple more days, okay? Don't push." Dean turned over and lay back down in something of a huff.

After a short silence in the deadened room, Cas whispered in the darkness once more, "It's starting to hurt... I suppose I have that coming."

With a clumsy last ditch effort on Dean's part, hindered by the edge of sleep, he squirmed an arm closer, half grasping, half flopping upon Cas' shoulder. As sleep took him, he was sure he felt a brush of Cas' lips to the back of his knuckles.

* * *

Late on Sunday morning, with the shop closed for business and Xander in a rare good mood, Dean had insisted on having him assess the nearly running pickup himself. They'd made some progress, the boy was hopeful, and had fewer objections to the vehicle than his brother had had.

He was vaguely aware of Claire's car leaving some time earlier, and had heard another vehicle approaching the house and assumed it was her, so as footsteps approached through the gravel, he hadn't been expecting Kevin to suddenly appear beside him. After a minor jolt at the younger man's presence, he shrugged it off.

"What's going on? Finally getting your own ride, Xander?" Kevin asked, looking over the truck.

"I can't borrow Ben's car anymore, so, I don't really get much choice. It was this or a little Miata, and I don't think I'm gonna fit in a Miata," Xander replied.

"You piss Ben off? What happened?"

Xander shrugged, and mumbled, "Just some stuff... Anyway, dad says this thing would be able to pull a float for homecoming next year, so, might as well."

Kevin nodded knowingly, "That's one way to get in good with the pep squad, I guess."

Dean caught a nearly hidden eyeroll from Xander, who immediately went to the back wall to get a different tool, and turned to Kevin, "Alfie's probably in the house, if you're looking for him."

"Well, I was, but then I figured, two birds, one stone, and, uh..."

"What's wrong with the car?"

"No, it's, um, something else."

"Mom's birthday?"

"No, I need dad-advice," Kevin replied.

Dean gestured further down the road, "Cas isn't busy, and I'm not the only dad around here."

"Only one who parented a five year old boy before," Kevin pointed out, "And unless I'm wrong, Cas never had a five year old around, so-"

Dean narrowed his eyes, "How do you always have an excuse?"

"I have genius level I.Q. and was the star of the debate team. I could talk you into a corner and keep you there for three hours with one hand tied behind my brain," Kevin replied.

"I don't doubt it," Dean answered with irritation and motioned toward the open bay door Kevin had come in through, turning to Xander, "I'll be right back, keep trying to loosen up the cap."

Xander gave him a nod, and Dean followed Kevin a short distance from the shop.

"Okay, what's the big crisis this time?"

"Well, while Margaret and I were on vacation, um... Mike got in trouble at his preschool. He got violent."

"Okay. Did they get any weapons off him? Shivs, butterfly knives?"

"Dean, seriously, I'm trying to prevent that kind of shit by handling it now."

Yeah, okay," Dean answered, "What happened?"

"Some kid shoved him over, and he shoved her back, and just-... How am I supposed to explain to him that it's not okay to hit girls without making it a sexist thing, or telling him he's not allowed to defend himself?"

"Uh... Well, first off, is he old enough to know there's a difference? At that age they're all about the same size, anyway."

"Actually, he's one of the smaller kids in his class. But at the same time, he won't always be shrimpy... Well, maybe, I don't know. I don't even know where he's getting this, he wouldn't see any violence at home."

"You mean like on T.V.? Like every cartoon I ever saw? Hell, Bugs Bunny's got guns in it. You can't shelter him, just stick to the whole basic 'no hitting people' thing until there's a little more height difference. And anyway, kids don't listen."

Kevin's eyebrows went up, "What?"

"In one ear, out the other. That's why 'do as I say, not as I do' never works. Everything I learned from my dad, whether it was negative or positive, it was by example. You keep doing what you're doing, set a good example, he'll be fine."

* * *

When Rachel walked into the diner, she looked for Claire at one of the tables, and it took three sweeps of the dining area to spot her. Rachel was unnerved immediately by Claire's appearance.

She had grown used to the sight of her daughter-in-law in jeans, in coveralls, in pajamas, and of course Alfie had sent her photos from the wedding, so she had an idea what Claire looked like with full makeup, but she'd never seen her in business apparel.

Rachel approached apprehensively, looking around the booth, "Where is Melody?"

Claire looked up with a cold, measured smile, "It's nice to see you, too, mom. I'm fine, thanks for asking. Please, sit down."

From the deer-in-headlights look in Rachel's eyes, Claire was certain the ball was in her court, and it would stay there. Rachel gingerly slid into the booth facing Claire, and Claire set a manila folder on the table, just out of easy reach, and picked up her coffee cup. Rachel reached for the folder as Claire nearly had the cup to her lips.

"Don't," Claire warned, "That's not for you. Not yet, anyway. Besides, I thought you might want to at least order a drink before we get started."

"What's to get started? Did you lie to me on the phone, when you said I could see your daughter today?"

Claire shook her head, "I didn't lie. I just want to make sure we both take a look at the bigger picture, and that you know your place in that picture."

Rachel folded her hands on the table, in a silent acknowledgement that she was listening.

"In that folder are two things. One is a legal run-down of grandparents' rights in this jurisdiction, short version being that you have none, and the other is an unsigned, undated cease and desist letter."

"I didn't know you had any interest in law," Rachel said quietly, as though Claire's statements were nothing more than polite conversation.

Claire shrugged, "I don't. But between my uncle, and your ex brother-in-law, I'm covered."

A young waitress stopped by the table to collect Rachel's order, and scurried off again.

"I want to make sure that you know, I was really hoping we'd get along, that's why I let my guard down. That is never going to happen again, not where you're concerned. That folder? That's your last chance. All you have to do is behave yourself, so that I don't have to open that folder. After that, any further contact is between you and Alfie."

Rachel shook her head, "Then I will have no contact, he's not answering my calls."

"Give him some time, and if you can learn to play by his rules, and show some goddamned respect, you know, without saying horrible things to people, he might surprise you. Maybe you could take a class on not being a bitch in the meantime, and maybe you can weasel back into his good graces."

Rachel stared at Claire cooly, "I don't know what you mean."

"That's close enough to polite that I'm going to let it slide, but you and I were both there, so there's no point in pretending you didn't act like an ass and have your own son throw you out."

With a sharp glance at the folder, Rachel took a breath, clearly attempting to restrain herself, "Unless you have more ways you want to drag my name through the mud, Claire-"

"I have plenty more ways, but I'd hate to have nothing left to surprise you with," Claire answered, turning slightly, and looking toward the kitchen door. Rachel wasn't entirely certain, she thought she almost caught a small wave before she turned to look for herself, and found a young woman walking toward them, an employee, that was obvious, but not in a waitress uniform, carrying Melody on her hip.

Rachel carefully hid a glare as she accepted Melody from the woman, who quickly left the table again, and settled the baby on her lap. It was plain to see Rachel's nerves were frayed. She nodded in the direction the woman had gone, "So, you trust strangers here not to steal her?"

"Julie's no stranger, we went to school together, she used to work at Singer, so did her husband, and they have two kids of their own, so no point in stealing mine."

* * *

"So, who's quitting?" Alfie asked, tossing several of Melody's toys and teethers into a plastic box.

Kevin sat down quickly, "She is."

"Who decided that?"

"She did. I said I was going to tell Crowley to have her take over for me, but she doesn't think he'd go for it."

Alfie nodded, "That, and I guess it's your project to start with, not really fair to ask you to be the one to leave."

"Nah, she just really likes that extra paycheck I get for sitting on my ass half the time. But she could go back to school, stay home, or work wherever she wants as long as that's in place, nothing to worry about... So where's Claire and the baby?"

"I don't know, let me check her tracking device."

"Man, c'mon, I didn't mean it like that, just, if they're asleep or something-"

"No, Claire went out. Might be meeting insurance reps or something, she was wearing the office-bitch outfit," Alfie replied with a look of distaste.

"Hot," Kevin commented. Alfie shook his head in vehement disagreement, "Hey, just because Naomi ruins shit for you doesn't mean I have to go along with it. Heck, Naomi would be hot if she wasn't drowning in her own self-importance."

Alfie's phone chimed, and he picked it up from the coffee table, finding a text message from Naomi, "Glad to see you caved."

In confusion, he sent back a question mark, and quickly received a picture of Rachel, in the diner, holding Melody, "Unless this is some other child?"

He turned off the screen, resting his chin on the back of his hand, stunned, and unsure exactly what he'd seen.

"Hey," Kevin snapped his fingers twice, "You okay?"

Alfie looked as though he was about to answer when the front door opened quietly, and looking up he saw Claire enter with the diaper bag on one shoulder, and the infant car seat in her hands. He didn't like the look of the folder that stuck up out of the top of the bag, and quickly got to his feet, moving around to the back of the couch, only finding his hands shook as he took the seat from her.

"How'd it go?" Kevin asked as Alfie passed the seat over the back of the couch to him, "Lots of closing? Earn your coffee? Or did you demote somebody?"

"I don't demote people," Claire replied, "I fire them, or sentence them to untold torture."

She'd barely managed to shrug off the diaper bag before Alfie insistently tugged her toward the back door, "Kev, can you keep an eye on Melody?"

"Oh, hell no. You know I can't stand kids," Kevin replied sarcastically, already pulling Melody free from the straps of the seat as Alfie hurried Claire out onto the porch, closing the door behind them.

Claire gave him an expectant look as he started to pace, seeming to gain agitation.

"So, um... Do you want to tell me anything about today?" Alfie asked.

Claire shrugged, "Not really. You said you didn't want to know."

"What are you talking about?"

"A few days ago. I started to tell you your mom called me at work, and you said unless I wanted you to tell her to stop, to just block her number, and I said she had a question, and you said to handle it any way I wanted, but you didn't want to be involved."

"Did you take Mel to see her?"

Claire huffed, "She said she wanted to say goodbye before she left. I said I'd talk to you, and I tried. But you were so... I don't know, shut down, and done with the whole thing, I figured I could at least let her have that much, and remind her why if she ever wants to come back, she's gotta remember who she's dealing with."

"So you did?"

"Yeah. I met her for coffee, on my own terms, fully prepared for anything she could have thrown my way, which was a hell of a lot easier than you bringing her here, days earlier than expected, and letting her walk all over me, the way you set it up," Claire shot back.

Alfie gestured toward the door, "And that file in the bag? Your emergency file in case your mother ever showed up?"

She shrugged, "It works for this, too."

"Claire, what the hell-"

Claire shook her head firmly, "You wanted her here in the first place. How can you get mad at me for letting her see that behaving herself and kissing ass is the only way back in? ...And don't tell me for one second that you don't wish she'd stop being a bitch and treat you like a human being, okay? Because it's crap."

"I know what you'd do if I went behind your back to let your mom see her."

If Alfie's eyes were any indication, and to Claire, they were, he regretted the words the moment they left his mouth. That didn't stop Claire's jaw from dropping, however, and he stammered slightly, considering methods of backtracking.

Before Alfie could recover in the slightest, Claire spun on her heel and went back inside. Claire was painfully aware of Alfie's reaction to slamming doors, however, without pause, the door shut behind her with a slam that rattled the small house.

Alfie stood silently, in shock at what he had said, at her reaction, at her actions that day, and at the whole situation from start to finish. He realized, looking down at his hands, that he was shaking as he clearly heard Kevin ask Claire if she was alright, Melody fussing at the unexpectedly loud sound, and loud footsteps going up the stairs inside. He sank to the steps of the back porch, and a short time later, he heard a jiggle of the doorknob, followed by some difficulty in pulling the door open.

"Hey," Kevin said softly, ducking outside, "Um, I take it something's up, so, maybe I should go?"

Alfie nodded weakly, "Yeah, sorry, I, um... I just screwed up in record time."

Kevin nodded, and glanced over his shoulder toward the stairs, "Uh, yeah, the glass in the door isn't exactly soundproof... Well, figure it out, but you know where I'm at. She took Mel upstairs, by the way."

Alfie nodded again, and Kevin made an attempt at getting the door to close.

"Um... I think she broke it..."

* * *


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: More story!
> 
> So, y'all, I am scheduled for surgery on Feb 15th... If they keep me overnight, I've already warned certain fandom/family members there damn well better be a watch party in my room. Also said they have to sneak me non-alc beer and pie, but they might not come through for me on that, I don't know. 
> 
> There are some undertones in this chapter that maybe not be entirely evident now, but if you watch for emotional cues now, they should become clearer in the following chapter, or the one after. I'm trying to wrap things up to where we pick up two years down the line, but there's no nice pretty bow to wrap up this section! ...Possibly because life is messy, idk.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Looks like I'm picking up steam or shucking writer's block, hope this speeds up! FW)

* * *

Although upstairs, and out of the fray surrounding the back door, Claire was well aware of the comings and goings over the last few hours.

She did feel a little guilty that the door had broken, and while the echoes had told her Alfie and Kevin had attempted to fix it, she hadn't bothered to open the nursery door. Instead, at Melody's unwavering demand, she fed her baby, and after falling asleep at the breast, she put Melody in the crib for her much needed nap, and went back to the wooden rocking chair. Initially she had planned to waste time on her phone, catch up on business emails, and screen online reviews for the shop, but her drained emotions left her staring out the window that looked toward the roof of the shop.

She had watched as Kevin spoke to Dean, then went for his car, likely ready to get home, and as Dean apparently told Xander to continue working on the truck, gathered a few tools, and made for the back of the house.

Below her, she was aware of deep voices talking, Dean's chiding voice at one point, and a while later, Cas' voice, as well as an electric drill.

Slowly, she became aware that the choice of which bedroom she'd chosen to shut herself in was less than ideal, as this one had no attached bath. Nursing had left her parched, as well, and while she would have been content to get a glass of water from the bathroom sink, she supposed she had isolated herself long enough.

After a quick run through the other room's bath, she snagged her pillow and a throw blanket from the bed, intending to take a nap on Melody's rug, but was distracted by a car going past on the gravel road. She didn't recognize it, but tried to pay it no mind as she ditched the pillow and blanket on Melody's floor.

About to go down the stairs to the kitchen, a whim struck her, and she checked again through the window at the top of the stairs to see an odd bit of commotion involving Xander in the front yard of the house further down the road.

She ducked into the kitchen, quickly grabbing a glass of juice, and started back to the stairs.

Unavoidable as they were, she noticed Alfie wore a look of mixed guilt and irritation and avoided her gaze, Dean was entirely focused on the door, and Cas looked up at her with a slightly worried look in his eyes.

"Somebody needs to go check on Xander," Claire stated simply, "He's over at the house, and I think some girl is throwing rocks at him... I mean, I'd almost expect that with Ben, but, ...whatever."

Cas and Dean shared a concerned look, and Cas immediately started for home. Claire could see that whatever incident was occurring hadn't yet stopped as she reached the top of the stairs, and Cas was hurrying toward it, but she continued into Melody's room, and out of habit, left the door open as the stretched out on the floor.

"I guess you weren't exaggerating, huh?" Dean said quietly, likely unaware Claire could hear him.

Alfie shrugged slightly, "I don't think either one of us is really one the straight and narrow today."

"Can't be that bad, nobody's swinging punches," Dean muttered.

A short silence followed, with more fussing involving the door before Alfie spoke again, "You think Kevin's right? That she'd want space, and I should crash over there for a few days?"

"Okay, first, he said she _might_ want some space, not that she would, and second, do I look like a mind reader to you? Go ask her. And just so you know, after a few months of sleepless nights, everybody's on edge, and kind of brain-fried, stressed, snapping at each other, that just comes with the territory, part of parenthood... One thing's for sure, though, if you take off and she doesn't want you to, she'll probably break a lot more than the door."

Claire turned over, trying to get comfortable, and soon the warm room caused her to doze off.

* * *

Cas rounded the bend in the road to the sound of raised voices. He found Xander standing on the porch, the white paint of the railing sporting a few harsh chips, and watched as a girl roughly the same age as Xander and Ben chucked another rock at the porch.

"You're such a douche bag asshole you couldn't even fucking call me?" the girl screeched.

"Why the hell would I call you? And even if I wanted to, I don't have your number!" Xander argued.

The girl scoffed, "Well it's a shitty time to ask for it now!"

"I'm not asking for it!" Xander yelled in response.

"Yeah, but I bet you told your friends that I was!"

"I told you, nothing happened!"

"Why the fuck would I ever believe you?"

Xander shrugged, "Maybe it's hard for you to believe, because you're so self centered, but I'd rather stick my dick in a box of razor blades than in somebody who'd come throw rocks at my house, you psycho bitch!"

Slowly, as Cas came closer to the near corner of the yard, Xander became aware of his presence, as did the girl. Cas set his hands on his hips, and as both of the teens seemed unnerved and stifled by his attention, gestured between the two of them, "No need to stop on my account."

Awkwardly, Cora shifted from one foot to the other, turmoil roiling as she turned back to Xander, pointing an authoritative finger, "I am not a psycho bitch! And if I'm acting like one, maybe you need to ask yourself why!"

"Nothing... fucking... happened! What do I have to do, spell it out in graffiti? Climb out on a train bridge, hang upside down and write 'Cora's a fucking prude,' would that get you off my ass?"

Cas started for the front door, passing between them, "Clearly, this is going to take a while, so I'll go put a pizza in the oven. Luckily, we have no neighbors to call the police over a little yelling, so you may as well get it out of your systems now."

In frustration, Cora called after him, "Do you know what he did?"

Cas shook his head, "No. I wasn't there. But I do have reason to believe him. Maybe you should find out more about that."

Cas walked up the stairs as Cora and Xander resumed hurling insults at each other, but once he'd gotten the door closed behind him and started for the kitchen, something far more corporeal than an insult was hurled through the large living room window, leaving a nearly clean hole where it had been pierced, with large cracks spreading from it in a sunburst. He watched with chagrin as a triangular piece of glass slipped from the top of the frame, dropped to the floor, and shattered, adding to the spray of glass that had come from the initial object.

He took a deep breath and shook his head, "Bolster his social life... That went well..."

Continuing to the kitchen, the loud voices outside seemed to take different tone, almost a hissing of fear as the anger resumed. As promised, he put a frozen pizza into the oven and set a timer before collecting the broom and dustpan, and heading back to the front door. He pulled the door open widely, leaning out into their sudden stunned silence, and pointedly leaned the broom against the wall, shooting both of them an irritated look before closing the door.

* * *

With hopes high, Charlie pulled up to the house, perfectly giddy over her prospective new home, and bounced happily up the porch steps, only to come to the abrupt realization that the large window to the right of the front door was broken.

As she paused with her hand on the doorknob, Ben's Mustang pulled in behind her car, and he and a girl of similar age started for the door. Charlie pointed to the window as they approached, "Did somebody make a hitlist?"

A look of embarrassment crossed Ben's face as the young woman's eyes went wide, and he shook his head, "I don't know, I wasn't here."

Charlie shrugged and pushed the door further open, as Ben and Caitlin followed her inside.

The house carried a silence that felt lethal, and Ben noticed Caitlin looking a bit uncomfortable at the plastic sheeting hanging to the left of them, and Charlie picked up on it immediately, "Oh, heh. Don't worry, nobody around here is into playing Dexter."

"I, uh,-" Caitlin started anxiously.

Ben noticed Xander, and surprisingly, Cora, seated at the table as far apart as possible, glaring at each other, and Cas rounded the corner from the kitchen and attempted a tired smile, only to cringe, "Sunday... Of course..."

"What the heck is going on?" Ben asked.

"Well, the only polite way to state it, is that Xander has a friend over," Cas replied.

Caitlin quietly shifted further away from the plastic until she'd gotten to the other side of Ben, looking around not unlike a startled mouse. Ben took her hand and started for the back yard, "Okay, we're gonna go run the dogs around."

Before they made it to the kitchen, the front door swung open in a hurry, and Dean came in, not paying much attention, closing the door behind him, "Claire and Alfie can't make it, so we'll have a few less dead strippers over dinner."

"Seriously?" Ben called from the kitchen as he slid open the back door, "You got me, okay? Super embarrassed, just tone it down, okay? I asked you guys four days ago to act normal, not ramp it up!"

The door slid shut firmly behind him, and through the glass everyone within the house could see them headed for the kennel.

"Oops," Dean said quietly before turning to Cas, "What happened to the window?"

Cas quietly indicated the kitchen before turning to Charlie, "How'd it go?"

"Great! I have the option to buy both units and rent out the other one, how cool is that?" she chirped.

"I don't know if you're bossy enough to be a good landlord," Dean answered, making for the kitchen, and finding Xander and Cora speaking quietly to avoid being heard. Both of them carried a sour expression. As he got closer, he could make out bits and pieces.

"...throwing rocks at me, I don't care, I'll call you a psycho bitch."

"...but you started this-"

"Nothing happened!"

"No way in hell is a guy not gonna take advantage-"

"Oh my god, shut up with that already."

"I swear, if you tell anybody-"

Dean cleared his throat, startling them both, "Why's the window broken?"

Cora glared silently as Xander looked up, "Dad, this is Cora. She puked on me the other day, and decided to come over and trash the house."

Dean shrugged, "Well, at least you're making friends. But Cora, if you're gonna trash stuff, could you start with his room? That way you're damaging stuff that's his specifically, and not the concern of the whole family? Upstairs, on the left."

Bewildered, Cora slowly rose to her feet, shooting Dean a questioning look.

Dean nodded, encouraging her, "On the left, though, right is Ben's room, and as far as I know, you don't have any reason to mess with his stuff."

Still quite unnerved, Cora started upstairs.

Xander gestured dramatically as he hissed a question, "Dad, what the _fuck?_ You just told her to go trash my room?"

"You two were clearly trying to have a private conversation, now you've got a chance to do that. And anyway, she looks shocked enough she might actually hear you out, and in your room you can show her that message board, y'know, privately, if that's something you want to do? Might calm shit down," Dean explained, "If not, well, at least she's not breaking windows."

After a hesitant and rather shocked look at Dean's face, Xander bolted for the stairs as Cas called up after him, "Is Cora staying for dinner? I'm getting a late start, she may want to call her parents."

Outside, after letting the the puppies out of the kennel and starting for the trees, Ben noticed Caitlin wasn't following, "Hey... I'm sorry, it's weird, I know. But most of the time, everyone's cool... Well, I don't know about that girl, Cora, but this is probably the first time she's ever been here, and I didn't know she'd be here."

"Okay," Caitlin said timidly, "What's up with that lady and the Dexter thing?"

Ben answered as she started to follow him into the trees, "That's Charlie, she's Cas' best friend, and she's staying here for a few days. We don't have a guest room, that room is usually Pops' office, so me and Xander put up the plastic for her... She doesn't kill people, I swear."

"And the, uh, the other thing?"

"Claire and Dad have this thing where they joke about dead strippers, it's just something they do."

Caitlin still looked anxious, "You know how weird this all sounds, right?"

"It would sound even weirder if I told you there were dead bodies buried out here, but really it's just an old cemetery, and all the graves are over a hundred years old, so, y'know, it's really all how you phrase it," Ben replied, "But, yeah, not very normal around here."

"Are you serious?" Caitlin whispered, coming to a standstill.

Ben took a look at her anxious eyes, and looked around. The woods were as he'd known them for years, a harmless, if somewhat wild area, full of plants and small animals, peaceful and secluded, and it took him a moment to remember how frightened he'd been when Claire had taken off through the trees without him the first time he'd gone out, "It's completely safe, I promise."

Hesitantly, Caitlin made a few more steps toward him and took his hand again, gripping it tighter than she had before.

After walking for a bit in silence, in a voice he could barely hear, Caitlin asked, "Do you believe in ghosts?"

Ben shrugged, "Uh... I'm not sure. I mean, I've had a few dreams about my mom, but that's normal. Never saw anything to make me think they were real, but, that doesn't mean they aren't."

"I think I saw one, one time, when I was really little, right after my grandma died, but my aunt just got pissed off at me. She says the existence of ghosts would go against the bible, and all dead people have their souls in a state of suspended animation until the rapture happens."

"What's a rapture?" Ben asked.

"Part of her brainwashing, I think... If you meet her, do me a favor, don't tell her I'm leaning toward atheism."

Ben chuckled, "I won't... That's gotta suck for you, though."

"Why?" she asked, suddenly looking concerned.

"Because she sounds... I don't know, overbearing? Like, her way or the highway?"

"Worse, her way, or hell. Which is basically where everybody is going except her," Caitlin replied, following him over a log that blocked their path, "So, are your parents into any kind of religion I should worry about? Like, are they going to pray before dinner, or something?"

"No. Well, Pops says he's agnostic, I'm not sure about my dad."

"What about you? Any religious beliefs?"

Ben chuckled, "Kind of, sorta, but nothing major... I used to hang out with a couple of Rabbi Jake's grandkids, around eighth, ninth grade, and I'd ask him stuff, he had some really good answers... He, um, he told me one time, when I asked him why the world sucks so bad if the was some all-powerful being that could stop all the hunger and suffering and stuff, and what it all means, and he goes, 'Ben, look at every religion in the world, and you'll find the same message. Don't be an asshole. If more people followed that, we wouldn't have suffering.' So, I mean, I laughed when he said it, but I thought about it for weeks, and I realized he was kind of saying he doesn't know, and also, that's as close to any right answer anybody's ever going to get."

"A rabbi said that? Like, actually swearing?" Caitlin asked.

"Yeah, Rabbi Jake... You don't know him?" Ben asked, stopping to call one of the puppies back who'd wandered too far.

"No, pretty much campus and the grocery store are as far as I get from her house... I had to call my mom back home and tell her tonight was an important study group to get my aunt to let me leave, that's why she was staring at you from the window."

"Explains the book bag."

Caitlin smiled shyly, "I'm really sorry, but if I didn't do what I could to sell it-"

"Don't worry about it. Weird is normal here," Ben replied.

* * *

_The sun was bright, and hot, and the sand burned her feet... She remembered this... Her best friend had found out that despite living less than fifty miles from the coast, Claire had never seen the ocean, and begged her parents to invite her along. She was eleven._

_Amelia had fussed and grumbled about having to buy her a swim suit, insisting that at some point previously she had taken Claire with her on one of her yearly getaways with one of her boyfriends, saying that Claire had been afraid of the water, and ruined their weekend. Claire had no memory of any such event, but knew better than to argue._

_In her dream, Claire couldn't remember the name of her friend, or the worried glances occasionally passing between her friend's parents, but she remembered the water was warm, and it swayed her. She remembered the shells washed ashore, the sodas so cold from the cooler they felt like ice, and the giant sandcastle with an arch high enough for them to squeeze through._

_The warm air heated her lungs, but with so much open space on the beach, all she wanted to do was run and play, and no one stopped her._

"Claire?"

Her eyes snapped open, and she rolled to look at the doorway. He had a hand on each side of the frame, standing beyond where the door would have closed. Claire shifted the blanket, now insufferably warm, away from her face, "Yeah?"

Melody was still in a deep sleep in the crib, and not likely to wake as long as they kept their voices low.

"Sorry... I wasn't thinking when I said that. And I would never..." Alfie said quietly.

Claire stretched slightly, and rubbed her face, sitting up. She turned her head to look through the bars of the crib, and she knew he was right. But no matter how concerned or worried he could be about the worst types of people their daughter could come into contact with throughout her life, she wasn't sure he'd ever know the panic that gripped her heart with sharp, steely fingers at the very idea of her mother learning of Melody's existence.

"Yeah, well, you're the one who pointed it out first, when she came in here, she's not my mom, she's yours... She can't scare me, and maybe that makes me jaded, but..."

Alfie shook his head, "I know, honestly, you would never put her in harms way, just after everything she did-"

"I tried to tell you. You didn't want to hear it."

"You said it was about her, you didn't say it was about Mel. And you know I'd drop everything for Mel," Alfie whispered hoarsely in emphasis.

Claire fixed him with a skeptical look, "Even the midwife didn't drop everything for Mel-"

"And I'll regret that for the rest of my life, but this was a choice, and you didn't exactly get my attention before making it!"

Melody's arm fluttered, and her hand traveled from next to her face to rest by her hip, and Claire and Alfie both went silent to see if she'd wake or fuss. Claire jerked her head toward the stairs, and Alfie nodded, stepping into the room silently, taking her hand to pull her from the floor.

Reaching the foot of the stairs, Clair got a better look at the door. The hard slam had broken the jamb, pressing the door too far forward, and damaged the hinges, the problem becoming worse when Kevin wrenched it open.

"It'll stay shut, and the lock still works," Alfie reassured her, "It's a normal size, so I'll go get a replacement tomorrow, Dean said your dad probably knows how to install it. And the little, uh, the wood that stops it on the outside, that should be easy."

Claire crossed her arms, shaking her head before one hand found it's way to her mouth, "I broke the house... I broke the house because I was pissed at you..."

Alfie reacted immediately to the emotion in her voice, reaching for her, but she pulled away, "Hey, it's an old house, okay? It's not as bad as it sounds."

"Like the tire iron." Claire mumbled.

"This is not like the tire iron. All you did was slam a door-"

"All I did this time!" Claire snapped, "You know eventually Melody's gonna get old enough to piss me off, or just be in the wrong place at the wrong time, you know that, right?"

"Claire, that's not... You would never-"

"Bullshit. I nearly hit Ben the other day, and you saw Dean's face that time," Claire's voice cracked as the tears started, "And she's just so small... And, yeah, I should've made you listen when you said you didn't want to, I figured I was doing you a favor, okay? ...It won't happen again."

Alfie reached for her again, more insistently this time, and held her tight, recognizing immediately that her fears were a battle he was unable to fight.

* * *

"Good thing you had this laying around," Charlie said quietly as Dean lifted a partial sheet of plywood up to rest against the interior of the broken window, and passed him a nail and hammer.

Dean shrugged, "Shouldn't have happened in the first place... Did Cas call her parents?"

Charlie shook her head, "He said she's going through enough right now."

"So is Xander."

"Yeah, looks like it... What's going on, anyway?"

Dean shook his head, "Nothing I can really talk about, sorry."

It wasn't long before a very strained dinner took place, the two girls couldn't have been less alike or more out of place, and Charlie, insisting that her real estate find was a cause to celebrate, had soon downed a bit more than half a bottle of wine, dragging Cas into her happy wake.

Dean had fussed when the second bottle opened, shortly after Xander had (at Dean's suggestion) seen Cora to her car, and Ben had left to take Caitlin home. Cas had responded gruffly that he was well past cleared for alcohol, and gently suggested that Dean butt out or join in. Begrudgingly, Dean opted to have a couple of glasses, but only after firmly reminding Cas and Charlie both that all three of them had work in the morning.

Xander had shut himself in his room, and the conversation turned to the second bedroom of the duplex, and Charlie began discussing uses for it, other than storage, or the most obvious, a guest room or office. Dean listened, but only halfheartedly until somehow, the idea of fostering a child was thrown into the mix, and Charlie began alternating between absolute no, and questions.

Eventually, the bubbly conversation boiled down to indecision on Charlie's part, as to whether she wanted to be a parent at all, and then came the general drunken consensus that babies were both very cute, and incredibly disgusting.

Cas shot off a quick text to Claire, and finding that Melody was not only awake, but had far too much energy for the time of day that it was, a plan was hatched, with Claire's permission, to stop in. Dean shook his head at the two rather tipsy adults and their quest for some playtime with an infant, and followed along after them, insisting on lighting their path down the gravel road. This proved invaluable later as Ben's car had been approaching them much too fast, expecting the road to be empty.

Claire met them at the door, tired, her eyes somewhat red, and led them to the living room where Alfie was just finishing giving Melody a bottle, to which Charlie cracked a joke that she and Cas had also emptied a bottle that evening.

Easily ignored from the angle where they'd been repairing the door earlier in the day, Dean caught a glimpse of the artwork on the wall, and uncomfortably turned away, hoping to ignore it. Unfortunately, Charlie had other plans, and as she had to wait for Melody to be burped anyway, fawned over the picture instead.

"That is sooo pretty!" Charlie gushed, swaying slightly on her feet as she turned to Claire, "Did you pose for that?"

"Um, no, it started as a crayon drawing. Not exactly proportional, either," Claire replied with a chuckle.

Alfie avoided looking up, choosing to focus all of his attention on his daughter for the time being.

"Why's it in the living room?" Dean asked, taking a seat where he could face his back to it.

Claire shrugged, "Rachel kept picking at me about being 'mannish,' it shut her up... Well, until she called me a whore, but, whatever, Alfie kicked her out, so it doesn't matter."

Dean turned to Alfie, "You kicked your mother out?"

"Well, there's more to it, but-"

Dean shook his head, "No. No need to explain yourself. Bitch calls Claire a whore, she's gone. Good job."

Cas nodded, "Not to mention dinner the other night. I was surprised you spoke up then, when she said... whatever the thing was she said, something about moving."

"Cas, did you see this?" Charlie asked, pointing to the large frame.

"Not intentionally," he replied.

"Dean's scared to look," Charlie chuckled, "Are we supposed to ignore it?"

Dean risked a glance at his very silent son-in-law. Cas and Charlie may have been too inebriated to notice, but he was sure Alfie's cheeks were redder than before. Dean carefully weighed what he knew about both Claire and Alfie, and decided it was very unlikely that particular image was ever meant to see the light of day. Claire, however, having taken a seat curled up in the end of the couch, seemed unfazed.

She shrugged, "Nah. I mean, it's not me, just a really detailed drawing, I mean, it's flames in a human shape that has a similar scar, is all. Besides, it looks really cool."

Satisfied that Melody was not likely to soil her burpcloth, Alfie passed her off to Cas and slunk away upstairs. Charlie continued to stare at the image in the frame until Cas reminded her that Melody was no longer a vomit timebomb, getting his friend to sit down before passing her the baby.

A short while later, once Melody had finally begun to yawn, Dean initiated the chore of getting Cas and Charlie back home. He supposed Claire had to have been either very tired, or in a particularly good mood, because she easily accepted an enthusiastic hug from Charlie on their way out.

"Didjoo even see it?" Charlie slurred to Dean as they were nearly halfway back down the road.

"Uh, yeah. Saw it the night Melody was born, it was hanging in the upstairs bathroom," Dean replied.

"Why are you so squeamish? It's art. Hell, if somebody made a Venus de Milo out of me, I'd always just-"

With a failed grab at his sleeve as she tripped, Charlie's slight frame quickly twisted to a heap on the ground. Following his first instinct to help her to her feet, Dean reached for her, but she only yelped and grabbed her ankle with a hiss. Changing course, Dean carefully began checking her ankle for a break, and Cas sat down next to her, his hands on her shoulders, trying to offer some reassurance.

After making certain the bones were still in place, Dean realized that the conversation had changed once again, and once again, Charlie was breaking down over her recently ended relationship.

"It's okay," Cas murmured.

Charlie shook her head as the tears came more freely, "She was such a bitch to me, and I hate her, but I hate being by myself... It was four years, _four years_ I was single before Meg, and then, it's like, that picture? ...What if nobody is ever gonna think about me like that? What if that, you know, true soulmate, or whatever, what if I don't have that, and I'm by myself, forever, and I just wind up lonely and miserable, and then it's all over, and I die alone?"

"That's not-" Cas started.

"I hate my life!"

"Charlie, listen," Cas said gently, "It could take another four years, or eight, or two, or tomorrow, but it's clear that she wasn't good for you... Or anybody. You grew from that experience, and now you're moving on with your life, but don't give up all hope just yet. The right person and the right time are usually at odds with each other. And in the meantime, you're not alone. You have friends, we're here for you."

As Cas pulled Charlie up to stand on one foot before carefully pulling her onto his back, Dean rose to his feet, contemplating Cas' words deeply, and followed them back to the house.

* * *


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: Omg, somebody get the Kleenex!
> 
> I'm not sure I have any major triggers in this one? I mean, I worry about setting people off, though. Should be okay, if not, please let me know and I'll add it.
> 
> Thanks for reading! FW)

* * *

Dean slipped upstairs in part to give Charlie some space to safely sob on her best friend in the living room without an audience, but also to check in with Ben and Xander.

Ben's door was open with the light off, and Nick lay in the doorway, her chin on her paws, watching the shadows moving at the bottom of Xander's door across the hall. With a soft tap, he cracked the door open, finding Xander putting his bookshelf back to rights, and Ben spinning idly in the desk chair, speaking quietly.

"If I knew it was that easy, I would've started using that as an excuse years ago, get some girl feeling me up-" Startled, Ben stopped abruptly, "Hey, Dad."

Xander still looked as uncomfortable as he had all throughout dinner, but now, also irritated by Ben, "It's an actual orientation, you insensitive ass."

"So..." Dean said quietly, "Long day for everybody, huh?"

Both of the boys nodded in agreement, and Ben spoke up, "Yeah, what the hell happened to just wanting to meet Caitlin and not trying to scare her off?"

"None of it was planned," Dean assured him, "This was supposed to be a regular family dinner, nothing weird."

"You mean 'nothing crazy?' And then crazy showed up anyway."

Xander opened his mouth to speak, but Dean held up a hand right away, hushing him, "Ben... as far as I know, this girl has had a rough week. The kind of rough that would put anybody on edge. Sure as hell a lot better for her to come out here on the weekend, sort out for herself what happened, and wind up giving us a couple of hours of hell rather than go into school Monday, not knowing for sure what happened, and start shit there."

"She broke the window," Ben replied, gesturing to the front wall of the house.

"Nobody's hurt, we're gonna replace the window, and let it go."

Ben's eyebrows went up, "And the front porch?"

"Let it go, Ben." Ben huffed slightly and started for his room, but Dean turned to him as he reached the hallway, "Hang on, is everything okay with Caitlin? We didn't give her too much of a shock?"

"Yeah, she kind of went along with it."

Dean nodded, "Okay, cool... She seems nice. And really smart."

"And then there's Cora..." Ben replied with a chuckle, ducking into his room.

Dean turned back around to Xander, who more than ever, looked a rattled mess. He stepped inside and pushed the door most of the way shut, "Things seemed a little less stressed at dinner, how'd it go up here?"

"You _told her_ to trash my room. How do you think it went?" Xander growled.

Dean shrugged.

"She threw a bunch of stuff on the floor, and, I don't know, it was like she wasn't even thinking about it at that point."

"Then what happened?"

"I told her... She didn't believe me, so I did like you said, showed her that message board... I still don't know if she believes it, but it's probably going to be all over school tomorrow if she doesn't keep it to herself."

Dean nodded, "Listen, if you felt backed into doing that, I'm sorry, but it was probably the most concrete way of getting through to her, and it'd be a lot easier to deal with folks knowing about you for who you really are instead of having some rumor going around that you hurt her, okay? I know that doesn't make it any easier, but-"

"Get outted instead of accused?"

Dean took a deep breath, "Everything you say you did, that shows you're a good person. There were better ways you could have handled that, but you told me you were drunk, you're not old enough to have much experience taking care of other drunk people, and... I got kicked out of the military, part of it was that I was accused of raping somebody, it got dropped later, or it would have been prison time... This, though? Today? I was trying to help you protect yourself. And being one of the big guys at school, not a lot of bullying you can't handle."

Xander scoffed, "Right, like Ben and I don't get shit about the fact that we live with a couple of old homos? The Michael Jackson jokes, the funny-uncle shit, it sucks. This is just going to make it worse."

"Xander-" Dean started, before shifting awkwardly, and finding the right words, "Look, big picture, are you okay?"

After a moment, Xander nodded, "Yeah."

"Then we just keep trying to keep it that way. Okay? But whatever happens out there, school, friends, sports, jobs, any of it, you get home, you know, family time, and... It doesn't make it okay, but it is supposed to make it better. We know you, we care about you, and we've got your back, right?"

Xander nodded, "Yeah, I know."

"C'mere," Dean said, pulling Xander in for a hug, "You're growing up to be a good man, kid. I'm proud of you."

* * *

Dean was somewhat aware of Cas walking into their bathroom to brush his teeth while Dean was in the shower, not at all unusual for them.

"How's Charlie?" Dean asked over the sound of the water.

After clearing his mouth, Cas answered, "Better... But I suppose it's going to take some time."

Dean was quickly finished and toweled off, and made his way to the bedroom, passing behind Cas, "All yours. Don't take too long, I wanna talk."

Cas' expression changed immediately, and he caught Dean by the wrist, "About what?"

"Jeez, stow the panic attack, Cas. It'll wait, just don't take all night."

"Dean-"

Dean jerked his head toward the shower, "Go. It'll sober you up a little."

As Cas, likely full of suspicions, complied, Dean went back into the bedroom and put on a pair of sweatpants and started the small stereo playing quietly. He was aware the two actions would oppose each other in Cas' mind, each canceling out the other in terms of what to expect from Dean that evening, but he was sure it would be obvious soon enough. Generally speaking, the music would indicate sex, and clothing, the opposite.

Dean adjusted the pillows on the bed, sat with his back to the headboard, and plugged in his phone, dreading the conversation he was sure he was about to have. Shirtless, his wedding rings hung on a chain around his neck, as he had to keep his hands bare at work, and tucked away beneath a tshirt, they were less likely to catch on machinery. His left hand fumbled with them slightly as he checked his email, and he paused to look at the design on the engagement ring, despite knowing it by heart.

Cas had picked a winner, the ring suited Dean's personality well, and although he rarely actually had the rings on his hand, Cas never fussed or questioned him. The one time he'd left them in his office at the shop, he'd apologized, expecting Cas to be hurt, but Cas had only told him Claire had explained the dangers of wearing them at work, and said he'd rather Dean focus on his safety.

The thought briefly crossed his mind that Lisa's rings, and his original wedding band, were sitting in a safety deposit box, and waiting to be given to Ben, should the occasion arise. He knew Lisa would have loved that.

He looked up as the bathroom door opened again, and realized Cas was watching him playing with his rings, and Cas seemed concerned. He patted the bed next to him, and rather than pull on more than the towel he wore, Cas joined him.

"I get why you did what you did," Dean said softly, "I don't get why you didn't tell me. I mean,-... Okay, so, over at Claire's today, working on the back door, I kept looking over at that little bit of grass, you know, where I had the grill? And thinking about what I said to you, that one night..."

"We don't have millions of years," Cas softly repeated from memory, Dean's response to his complaint that he'd fallen for Dean too fast had carried a massive impact, "But I have the time to lay here with you, look at the stars with you, and tell you it's going to be okay."

Dean nodded, "I've been wasting time being angry, and the thing that's got me so mixed up... You, um... when you..."

Cas quickly reached for Dean's hand, almost expecting from the emotional distance over the past few days, that Dean would pull it away, but he didn't, "Dean,"

Dean wiped a few tears from his eyes and forced himself to continue, "When you said that... that you would have married her legally because you love her platonically... I knew exactly what you mean, and... Cas, you are the only person I can ever tell about this."

"Dean, we would have annulled it later-"

Dean shook his head, "No. This was never about that, not really... Cas, I loved Lisa, I did, but it didn't start out that way. I thought I did, but I only married her because Ben was on the way, I didn't understand that until I really started to feel something for her later on, but when I married her, I didn't love her."

Cas was quiet as Dean's grip on his hand increased drastically, and he moved to clasp it with both hands.

"You wouldn't tell Ben that-?"

Cas shook his head immediately, "Never."

Dean took a deep breath, which exhibited an unavoidable rattle, "And when you asked me the other night, it's... It's like I got to the point where I loved her, and I'm not sure that I do anymore. It feels more like it did before that... I don't know if I'm scared or feeling guilty, or what, or I just can't-... What kind of person stops loving somebody because they're dead?"

Dean seemed about to say more, but Cas quickly pulled him into a tight embrace, "I'm sure it's more complicated than that."

"It's not the same with you," Dean said, lost in his own rambling, "I mean, it was fake at the start, but it was easier with her. I knew what I was supposed to do to treat her right, I did everything I could to be good to her, be a good husband, and... I mean, I do the same stuff now, be home on time, handle my share of stuff with the kids and the house and the cars, and remember your birthday, but even though the love was there before that, before I even got your ring, I don't... There's no standards to go by."

Cas ran his hand firmly over the back of Dean's shoulders as he held him, "I've always thought romantic love doesn't last without reciprocation... As she's no longer here, it's possible that it's completely normal to feel that way. But, Dean, I highly doubt that love is gone completely. It might be similar to that adage about loving someone but not being in love with them... And as far as relationship standards, I have no complaints."

Dean had gotten his arms firmly around Cas' waist and shifted them both further down the bed and into the pillows, "I still feel like a monster."

"Why? Because you don't open doors for me or reassure me my butt doesn't look big in a certain dress?" Cas kidded, "We haven't had a date night since my heart attack, that might help... Did you ever get any kind of grief counseling?"

"Just kind of piggybacked on Ben's," Dean mumbled against Cas' shoulder.

"Would you consider it?"

Dean grumbled slightly, "You know I hate unloading like that in front of strangers."

"I can't imagine walking around with that sort of burden weighing on you daily... If you won't see someone, at least don't keep it from me, all right?" Cas asked.

Dean swallowed hard, "This is stupid. It's been years... Feel like shit just bringing you into it, anyway."

Calmly stroking through Dean's hair, Cas adjusted slightly to get more comfortable, "Grief is a very abstract concept, Dean-"

"No," Dean objected immediately, "This is... It's not your fight, Cas. And what you said to Charlie, I don't know if I'm the wrong person, or the wrong time, but-"

"Stop. That was not about you."

"Bullshit, it wasn't. It's one or the other, or it never would have crossed your mind," Dean protested as Cas went silent, and rolled onto his back, still keeping Dean close, "Now, maybe you're really low maintenance, no monthly mood swings, and I can get away with a little less flowers, candy, and jewelry than what she needed, but if you were getting everything you need from me-"

"Alan was the wrong person at the right time... I know, you worry about keeping your jealousy in check hearing about these things, but we've vowed for life, and I don't see that changing, so for now, I'm only asking you to listen... Alan was a self-centered ass, but I had reached the point in my life that I wanted someone with me, I wanted that mystical 'forever,' and Charlie is in much the same place now. Jason may have been the right person, I honestly think he could have been, but it was at the worst possible time, when I'd just lost Claire, and now that I've put those years firmly behind me, I can easily admit that it was a very unhealthy time, and due to his own past, he needed to make the decision to put his needs ahead of the relationship. It was really the only option... Not entirely unlike whatever Meg may be going through now, as no matter how loving and patient Charlie is, Charlie needed to put an end to it... And who knows? Perhaps someday some child will come barreling around a bend and remove her car mirror with their head, and she'll fall head over heels for someone who has had time to learn their own life lessons and relax a little, someone who is both the right person, and arrives at the right time."

Dean kept silent, his cheek pressed to Cas' chest as he listened, slowly regaining a comfortable rhythm to his breathing that had been lost in the emotions, "...It was the school."

"What?"

"The school. We met at the school."

Cas thought carefully, and then nodded as memories from years ago clicked into place, "That's right. The ice cream... I was going to approach you before that, make certain you weren't up to no good."

Rolling onto his stomach, Dean lifted himself onto his elbows next to Cas, looking down into Cas' eyes, "Doesn't take a whole hell of a lot to screw things up, does it? Cas, I am so sorry, this just kept getting worse every time I turned around, and I don't even want to think about how bad it-"

Raising his head, Cas silenced him with softly repeating kisses as his hands gently navigated Dean's body to lay down again, resuming their embrace. With a few seconds' fumbling, it became evident that Dean had misread Cas' actions as a desire or request, but Cas quelled him quickly, and kept him close as he pulled away just enough to speak, his lips still brushing against Dean's as he spoke, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you at a more appropriate time, but I never intended to hide it from you. Is there more you want to discuss, or should we consider this resolved?"

"I love you," Dean whispered.

"That doesn't answer the question, but given the circumstances-"

"Am I being graded on this?" Dean asked in jest.

Cas could tell, especially at such close proximity, that there was a shadow of stress plaguing the edges of Dean's eyes. He'd seen it last for days or a few weeks before, usually if he'd been taking on far more than one person ought to handle, if he was worried, or if someone had been hurt, and it dawned on him that the symptom he'd noticed simply hadn't lifted, and was a continuation of the same shadow brought to Dean's features by the heart attack he'd had some time past. Life hadn't afforded Dean a long enough break between stressors to truly allow him to heal.

Cas ran the tips of his fingers over Dean's ever-present stubble, "You need to catch up on your rest."

"I can't do that."

"Why?"

"Because your towel fell off."

Cas suppressed a roll of his eyes, "Is your back bothering you at all, or will it be enough if I hold you while you sleep?"

Dean's expression sobered greatly with a look of tired relief as his ruse fell away, tightening his arms around Cas.

* * *

Ben waited quietly on the back porch with his phone in his hand, and soon the screen lit up with an incoming call, as he'd expected. He answered it quickly as he tried to hurry silently down the wooden steps and into the trees at the edge of the yard, "Hey. How'd it go?"

"She saw it. Now I'm under lock and key for a month," Caitlin replied in a hushed tone.

"On the cheek, though? Seriously?"

"We're talking about the woman who went out and bought brand new copies of Harry Potter just to burn them for promoting witchcraft, and thinks Lilo and Stitch is demon worship. She dragged me to the creationist museum in Glen Rose last summer... It's a good thing you know about cars, you may want to keep an eye on your brakes until she calms down," Caitlin whispered through the phone, "Listen, maybe this was a bad idea. You're really sweet, but, I was kind of bred into captivity, and my sentence isn't up until I'm eighteen. I'll understand if this is too much for you."

Ben shook his head as he stepped carefully, "What are you talking about? Too much for me? Have you met me?"

"Well, I'm sure there's plenty I don't know."

"How literal is this lock and key thing? I mean, I saw the bars on the windows, but I thought those were decorative."

Caitlin chuckled softly, "Oh, no, those are to protect me."

"From zombies?" Ben asked as he paused to lean against a tree.

"No, zombies are the glorification of death, and hence, evil. Those bars are to keep me in, and you out."

"Well, not to imply I'm some kind of stalker, or anything, but that's not going to work. I mean, at some point they have to let you make your own decisions."

Caitlin went quiet, and Ben wondered for a moment if the reaction was emotional, but just as he was about to break the silence, she spoke again, "Are you in the woods right now?"

"Uh, yeah," Ben replied in a half questioning tone. He cast a glance all around him, the faint light further off coming from the back door where he'd slipped out, the lamp glowing in his window, and farther away, the few yard lights left on near the shop. He walked barefoot, having snuck out in ratty clothes he only kept for sleeping, and having become used to a certain depth of the untamed miniature forest, as though it had accepted him, if only to a point, he moved easily, and without fear. The night air carried a whisper of a chill, the scent of nocturnal plants, and the sounds of a small branch of the local ecosystem.

During their time that afternoon, an innocent walk outdoors that served several purposes, the afternoon had been warm, the chore of exercising the dogs had been pleasant, it had given Ben time to explain the odd welcome, and, granted, they had paused occasionally for a quick kiss, but the same spaces had looked far different.

"I bet you can see every star in the sky without the cityglow, and hear everything that lives out there in the trees."

Ben smirked, considering the yard lights currently drowning out most of the sky, and the rustling leaves above him covering the rest, while masking smaller noises, "You really can, it's really something."

"Did you sneak out?"

Ben chuckled, "Yep, picked the lock."

"You can do that?"

With a glance at the back door where he'd simply walked out freely a short time before, Ben suddenly found it very concerning that Caitlin seemed to lack the same freedom, "Um, yeah... Do you want to learn how?"

"Well, you did show me where to get a burner phone small enough to smuggle in, so why not go for it? Maybe I'll change careers and become a spy."

Ben rested his arm against a low overhead branch as he continued to look around, as his chest suddenly felt tight with the realization that Caitlin's family had a very different concept of the word 'strict.' He considered making a Rapunzel joke, but worried it would hurt her feelings.

"So, if you were standing around in the backyard at your house, or, um, your aunt's house, just talking to me on the phone right now, and you got caught, just... What would happen?"

He was certain he heard a rustling of sheets and blankets on the other end of the line, and correctly guessed she had gotten into her bed in a hurry, stuffing the phone below covers or a pillow to hide the light. Ben was silent as he heard a few muffled voices, and remained silent until Caitlin's voice returned.

"Still there?"

"Yeah," Ben affirmed.

"Well, at my parents', probably just a lecture, and I wouldn't be allowed to see you again. Here, my aunt would call my parents, decide they were pushovers, and threaten to kick me out. She'd never do it, though, she never had kids, and my parents are already talking about putting her in a home."

"So is she your mom's sister, or your dad's?"

"My grandma's. Great aunt, I suppose, but, I don't know, I don't think she's that great."

The familiar creak of the back door sliding open caught his attention, and having no interest in being shut out for the night, he hurried toward the house. Dean was standing in the gap of the open door, half asleep, waiting patiently as Nick slowly descended the porch steps and sniffed the grass in several places. Catching sight of Ben as he entered the yard, Dean's eyebrows went up, "It's the middle of the night."

Ben pointed to the phone he kept to his ear, closing the distance quickly, slowing as he got to within earshot, still speaking to Caitlin, "Listen, I gotta go, I'll call you tomorrow."

"This number, not my regular phone. I'm pretty sure my aunt's keeping it until my parents make her give it back," Caitlin replied.

"Yeah, that was pretty much a given," Ben replied.

"You have school in the morning," Dean called.

"Is that your dad?" Caitlin asked with quieted worry.

Ben nodded to his father, still moving slowly as he reached the back door, "Yeah, but my folks don't run the house like a prison camp, so-"

"With good behavior, you'll get out in six months," Dean quipped, followed by a yawn.

"It's fine. No big deal," Ben reassured her.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get you in trouble," Caitlin whispered.

Ben stepped up on the porch and held the phone a little closer to Dean, "Dad, can you tell her she didn't just get me put under house arrest until college?"

"For what? Not taking the dog out?" Dean scoffed, turning to go inside, "Lock it up before you go to bed."

* * *

_Claire wandered the yard, navigating the stacks and junkers easily, the bag of tools in one hand, and a Volkswagen bumper in the other. She felt slowed by the warmth of the day, and guessed it was mid afternoon. She didn't recall taking the bumper off the scrap car, or even being in the shop before that, and wondered how long she'd been walking. Melody would need to eat soon._

_She set the bag of tools down on the hood of a nearby car, one that had seen better days long before it had been brought to the cannibalistic graveyard of slowly rusting metal and rubber, and tucked one of the work gloves into the pocket of her coveralls, wiping her brow. The wind whistled through gaps, cracked windows, and stirred the tall weeds that grew sparsely in the small wasteland._

_The stacks grew taller as she walked further, rising up around her, and as she began to question her location, she came around a corner to find herself facing her house. Unlike the house in reality, this one was surrounded by walls of vehicles that stretched higher than the roof, and was isolated by them. There was no hint of a front yard, no porch furniture, and it sat apparently abandoned with the front door wide open._

_Claire purposefully tossed aside bumper and started for the door, a feeling of dread rising within her as she approached._

_"Alfie? ...Why's the door open?" she called into the dark, and now that she was closer and could see it clearly, very dusty house._

_Claire spun around at the sound of the door slamming open and striking the wall, shaking the house on it's frame, only to find it had closed behind her, making the interior go dark._

_"Alfie?" she called again, moving to the foot of the stairs, receiving only deathly silence as an answer. Assuming he'd fallen asleep or gone to the shop while she was out, she started for the door again, stopping in her tracks as she heard Melody suddenly break into a heart wrenching panicked wail of fear._

_Claire tore up the stairs, her work boots pounding each one, strangely without sound where there should have been hard, deep thumping echoing through the house. She turned into the room at such speed she had to grasp the door frame to keep from falling over, and she found her mother standing over the crib, reaching for Melody._

_She wanted to scream, curse, and hit something, and Amelia had it coming, but strong hands suddenly held her back, dragging her away, preventing her from providing rescue to her infant. Claire was swiftly dragged back from the room, and once clear of the doorway, the hands loosened, letting her arms free enough that she was able to turn around, her fist leading the way._

Disoriented, Claire raised her head from where she'd fallen upon her assumed attacker, both of them sprawled upon the second floor landing, and found Alfie staring back at her with wide eyes, blood dripping from a split lower lip and one nostril, with enough volume that it had already passed his chin and dripped on his bare chest. "Please tell me you're awake."

Claire looked down to find her loose tshirt, not coveralls, had taken a few drops of red during the tumble, and met his eyes again, "Oh my god... I didn't know it was you."

Alfie nodded, cupping his hand around the lower part of his face in an effort to contain the blood as Claire climbed off of him and pulled him to his feet. Helpless to assist him, she walked far more easily to the crib, where Melody was still fussing loudly, but without the fear or pain Claire had been certain she'd heard in her dream. She scooped up her baby, bouncing her gently, and still shaky, went back to the bed.

The dark bedroom was dimly lit by the light coming from the bathroom as Alfie washed off the blood.

"I'm really sorry, honey," Claire called over the sound of the water running once she'd gotten Melody latched and settled next to her.

"Nightmare, right?" Alfie responded, "You can't control that, or your sleepwalking, and by now, I should've learned to block."

Claire stroked Melody's wispy hair and waited quietly as Alfie turned off the water and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"What was it?" he asked softly.

"My mother. You weren't in the house, Melody was screaming, and all I knew was that I couldn't get to her."

"Better now, though?"

He'd left the bathroom light on, and she could see the bruising on his nose and mouth swelling and changing color, "I messed up your face again."

"I was behind you, and grabbed you, and I know better."

"That's not going to fix your face," Claire fussed. 

Alfie shrugged with a chuckle, "You can kiss it better."

With a cringe, Claire dropped her head into the pillow, still upset with herself as Alfie stretched out next to her, "You need some ice."

"I don't need ice, it's not that bad... That nightmare, though, are you okay? I've never seen you tear through the house before."

Claire shrugged the shoulder she had pointed toward the ceiling as she lay on the other, and Alfie was able to guess by her reaction that she had plenty to say, she was only bottling it up into a burden that would release itself at another time.

Alfie scooted closer, resting a hand on Melody's tiny torso, and leaned in close to kiss Claire before tapping gently on the side of her head, "What's going on in there?"

"I'm freaking out about stuff that's not real. First step in losing my mind, I guess."

He shook his head, "It's all real. You weren't dreaming about fake stuff, your mom exists, everything she put you through existed, and her coming around would be a threat to Mel's safety. Completely sane. But at the same time, it's a recognized and well known threat. You don't have to worry about her showing up and getting let in the house. You don't have your folks trying to get you to make up with her and let her see Mel. The hard part is over, it's been over since before she was born, nobody is going to let her anywhere near Melody, or you... And if that doesn't work, well... Tire iron."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N2: Time jump! Next chapter takes place in two years... Which feels like the length of time it's going to take me to write it. ;) lol)


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: This one went fast! Wow! Okay, here you go! Hold on to your shorts!
> 
> Oh, and my 'Jack, the kid that broke Ben's arm' predates canon-Jack, but it's getting hard not to picture him in the part, now. So weird. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Love you guys! FW)

* * *

** Two years later **

* * *

When Cas opened the front door, he was met with the expected pandemonium. Dean held Mike under one arm, limbs swinging wildly, and hurried after Melody as the spritely two-year-old ducked into Cas' office carrying whatever absconded treasure she wasn't supposed to have.

Dean was back out of the office again in seconds, the object in hand, a loudly protesting toddler on his heels, and he gave a small heave to lift Mike over the back of the couch, setting him down almost roughly.

"Hey, look at that, Pop-pop's home."

Melody flexed her outstretched fingers toward Dean's raised hand, where Cas could now make out the shape of a glass salt shaker from the kitchen, and shrieked angrily, "Mine!"

Mike stood up on the couch and scrambled over the back of it before Dean could stop him.

"Any sign of Ben and Xander, yet?" Cas asked as he shrugged out of his coat.

Dean scoffed, "They knew we had both the grandkids tonight, we probably won't see them until next week. Dinner's almost ready."

"A feat unto itself, I'm sure," Cas mumbled, before quickly announcing, "All right, I'm going to need the big storybook."

"I'll get it!" Mike yelled, taking off for the large, brightly colored tome on the shelf below the television. Melody chased after him, declaring her ownership of the large book she could barely lift, but Mike moved quickly, and had it in Cas' hands just as he was ready to sit down in the center of the sofa.

Mike climbed up to one side of Cas, and as Cas opened the large book, Melody came closer, working up a fuss. Cas stopped turning pages for a moment and looked directly into her round, grumpy little face, "Melody, I'm going to read now, but if you decide to scream your way through the story, you'll miss it."

With a skeptical look well beyond her years, she made her choice and scaled the couch to melt into Cas' elbow, putting nearly half her hand, and he was sure, a few strands of her wild locks into her mouth as her attention turned to the pictures on the page.

As Cas read to the two children, he could hear Dean in the kitchen, speeding through the final steps of preparing the meal unhindered. The sounds slowed and quieted greatly as he was reaching the end of the tale, and soon Dean had returned to lean on the back of the couch as the story wound down to a calming end.

"Ah'done!" Melody declared, patting the page.

"No, you say 'the end!'" Mike argued.

"All done works, too, bud," Dean interjected, "Time to eat."

Cas got up from the couch far slower than the children did, as Mike and Melody raced for the child-sized folding table with cartoon characters on it, purchased when Melody had recently declared open war upon highchairs and boosters of all types.

With the children briefly distracted, Dean slipped an arm around Cas to snag a kiss before they got to the far more boring, plain wooden grown-ups table.

"Has it been like this the whole time?" Cas asked as he sat down.

Dean gestured to the children, "What, these two? This is nothing, not after the prank war at the shop last year."

"I suppose that's true. Still, considering lineage-"

Dean coughed through a rough laugh, "Their parents turned out fine, these little hellraisers will, too."

With a screech against the floor that set Cas' teeth on edge, Mike was almost immediately at the taller table, and thrust his hand into the large, open bag as he informed them both "Melly wants more Cheetos!"

* * *

"I should call them," Claire said quietly, "Just to check."

Margaret didn't look any less anxious, but only shrugged.

"The kids are fine, your dads totally have this, relax," Kevin replied, "I mean, you-... Well... Hold up, we really only have just Dean, and just Ben to go on, huh?"

"If Mel hasn't convinced Mike to help her burn the house down by now-" Claire started.

Alfie shook his head, "It's not like they haven't watched them before."

"Yeah, but that was separately. And that was before Melody started her weird psycho phase," Claire insisted, as Margaret started to object, "No, I'm her mom, I get to say it, she flips her shit daily over nothing."

"Okay, fine, but don't think Mike's not using her as an excuse," Margaret replied, "Maybe you're right about calling."

"No, c'mon, nobody is calling," Kevin stated loudly over the band, "They've raised kids, they're experts at the dad-thing. Hell, where do you think we get all our advice?"

"Dean hates giving you advice," Claire answered, picking at the basket of fried onions and jalapenos, one of several pub-food appetizers that littered the middle of the table.

"About sex, not about raising kids!"

"I did not need to know that."

Margaret turned to Claire, "What do you think? I mean, if they can handle your brothers..? I mean, it seems okay."

Claire shrugged, "Actually, Kevin's probably right. By now, my dad is home, and everything should be winding down. And they'd call if it was too much."

* * *

Mike stared, wide-eyed after Dean, as Dean hurried back into the house, carrying Melody, who was screaming about the bump on her chin from the tumble she'd taken down the porch stairs. Cas had the overwhelming inclination to follow after them, but he trusted Dean's medical knowledge over his own, and didn't feel comfortable leaving Mike alone in the backyard.

"Is she okay?" Mike asked.

"Uh, probably. Toddlers can be very clumsy, they grow very fast at this age," Cas answered.

"Did I grow fast?"

Cas considered the first time he'd met Kevin, soon after Claire had started high school, and a few of her friends' parents had contacted him regarding a four day teacher-training weekend, during which most parents had to work, and he'd agreed to provide some modicum of supervision. He had not been expecting to be challenged to a rap-battle by a shirtless boy with pink glitter makeup standing on the roof of his garden shed, and referring to himself in the third person as King MC Powder-puff of Hoe Mountain. Thankfully, Claire had sprayed Kevin with the water hose before Cas had to make too much of an effort to talk him into coming down, spurring him into climbing down anyway. It had been over ten years ago, but somehow it still felt like yesterday.

"You're still growing fast. Very fast."

"But I was little when I was a baby, right?" Mike asked, tossing the ball back.

"You were. Just under seven pounds, if I remember."

"I asked my dad about babies, but he just got really confused and then we watched a video. He said it was a baby, but it was really an alien."

"Is that right?"

"Yep. It was all gooey and had one big black eye, and then at the end it turned into a human baby. It was probably taking over the world."

* * *

"Think anybody knows about this place?" Ben asked, looking around the deserted runway of the long-abandoned airport.

"No way," Jack answered, "Old people, maybe, but all the weeds and stuff hide it from the road. But you guys wanted to open it up. Are we doing this?"

Xander walked closer, having stepped away, looking over the pavement, cautious about the condition, and wondering if it was safe to drive on. He'd lined up the nose of his pickup with Ben's Mustang, having no clear starting point. He chuckled, "This is stupid."

"Yeah, you're gonna end up nothing but a big toe on life support," Ben answered, "Okay, I'm good with this."

"I'll hang back with my phone, in case you idiots splatter yourselves all over the pavement," Jack said, moving to sit on the hood on his own car.

Xander gestured to Ben's car, and it's shiny new paintwork in four shades of dark green, "You know what Dad's gonna say if you scratch it."

"Dad's never gonna know," Ben scoffed.

* * *

In the darkened living room, Cas turned the volume down on the television until it was low enough neither child would wake as he turned it off. Mike had been curled up at one end of the couch, but stretched when Cas had gotten up, taking over most of the length of it, and he'd moved Melody to a child-sized piece of furniture meant to unfold for naps and sleepovers.

"Well, look at you," Dean said softly from the edge of the kitchen where he'd been cleaning up from dinner.

Cas looked up quickly, "What?"

Dean gestured for him to step closer, and Cas set the remote down and went to him. Dean slipped an arm around Cas' waist, switching to a whisper, "You, you just took to the whole 'grandpa' thing like a fish to water. I remember when kids used to make you nervous."

"It was likely a lack of experience."

"Well, good thing you got past it, you were born for this whole family-man thing."

Cas shook his head, "No, you're really more th-"

Dean kissed him softly, his hand slipping up Cas' chest as Cas returned the affection in kind. A chiming sound went off as Dean's phone began to ring loudly in the quiet house, startling them both and forcing Dean to scramble to answer it.

"Hello? ...Yeah, why? What happened?" Dean's face fell by increments as the call continued for several moments, "But nobody's hurt? ...Aren't there some tow chains in Xander's truck? He should be able to- ...Goddamnit... Yeah, no, I'll be there soon... Yeah, I know where it is, Jack, every idiot with a fast car for twenty miles knows about it. I'm leaving now."

"Jack? What happened?" Cas asked as Dean ended the call.

He slid the phone back into his pocket and kissed Cas again, "I gotta go pull Ben's car and Xander's truck out of the same ditch. Everybody's fine, sounds like they were just out getting loud, typical teenage crap."

"The old airport?" Cas guessed wryly.

* * *

Jack's car sat at the end of the runway closest to the nearly overgrown entrance from the road, with the lights on to make it easier for Dean to spot them. The three young men leaned against the side of the car, all staring toward the spot where a service gate had once stood.

"I should've called him myself," Ben mused.

"Your screen is shot," Jack answered.

"Yeah, but I could've used your phone... He's probably freaking out."

Xander leaned forward slightly, looking past Jack and Ben toward the ditch before settling back into place, "You know, when my truck's out, it's probably going to be fine, your car, though, looks beat to shit."

Ben rolled his eyes, "Like either of us are going to have anything bigger than a moped after this? He's gonna be pissed."

"Is he gonna yell at all of us, or just you guys?" Jack asked.

"You were only here in case something went wrong, he's got no reason to yell at you," Xander replied.

Jack shrugged, "Except for me being involved pretty much every time either of you get into shit. I mean, he's had to have figured that part out by now. Even Cas called me an instigator that one time."

"There's only one thing scarier than Dad yelling, and that's Dad not yelling," Ben said quietly, "Because that means he's cooking up something worse."

"Chore lists," Xander agreed.

"Pressure wash the shop floor," Ben said.

"And the outside of every building out there," Xander added.

"Clear a few trees to expand the backyard," Ben replied.

"Sand and stain the whole bottom floor at Claire's house."

"Clean out the storage buildings and reorganize."

"Yeah, and wash every car in the junkyard, I'm sure," Jack laughed, "You guys are freaking out over nothing."

"It's not nothing," Xander answered, "And Pops is worse."

Ben nodded, "Yeah, but pissing off Pops and then having Dad step in is the worst it ever gets."

Headlights crossed them as Dean's tow truck turned off the maintained county road and jolted, the rig swinging and creaking as he crossed a rough patch of pavement. Ben stepped away from the car, waving his arms as the larger vehicle approached, then directed Dean to head to the other end of the runway. The three piled into Jack's car and followed after the tow truck.

Getting out at the other end of the runway, Dean had already exited the tow truck and was standing at the edge of the rather deep ditch, looking at the sports car and the mid-sized pickup truck. The Mustang had spun slightly, and started up the rise of the ditch opposite them, and the pickup had stopped sooner, it's nose seemingly buried against the slope, back wheels only a foot from the end of the pavement, but solidly dug into the soft ground where the boys had tried to back it out.

All three sheepishly and silently avoided his unimpressed gaze.

"You two better hope one of these is fit to drive home, because I'm not making two trips," Dean growled sternly.

* * *

After dropping off Margaret and Kevin, Claire turned the car toward home, as Alfie, who'd been doing shots with Margaret, began humming a tune, and rolled the window down.

"What are you doing? I've got the A.C. on."

"It's too hot in here."

"That's why the A.C.'s on. C'mon, roll it back up."

"I'm not rolling it up."

"Alfie-"

"It's your fault, anyway."

"What's my fault?"

" _Hot._ " Alfie answered, emphasizing the word strenuously, as to leave no possible misinterpretation.

Claire was silent a few seconds longer than necessary, "You're not getting any tonight."

"That's cool with me, I'll just sit here and stare at you-"

"I hate that."

"Pretty close to the same thing, anyway, all basking in your beauty, and- just-..."

"You better drink some water when we get home."

"...better ways to get my mouth wet."

"Shut it."

"Yes, ma'am."

Claire noticed the back of the tow truck ahead of them on the highway as they approached the turn, which wasn't in itself unusual. The flatbed of the truck was empty.

"What the hell...?"

Alfie suddenly looked concerned, "What? What's wrong?"

"Nothing... Just, that's the tow truck, and there's nothing on it."

She followed the truck as it made its turn onto the gravel road, and passed it as it turned in toward the shop, using the driveway for the house. Despite the difference in routes, the truck was stowed fairly close to the garage, and she headed for it quickly once she was out of the car.

Dean locked the door of the wrecker as he got out of it, and found Claire walking toward him, "You guys have fun?"

"Yeah, what's going on?" Claire asked, jerking a thumb toward the back of the rig.

"A couple of jackasses wound up in the ditch at the end of a runway."

"Anybody I know?"

"Your brothers."

"Both of them?"

"Yeah."

"Huh... jackasses. Okay, is Melody still awake?"

"Nah," Dean shook his head, "I mean, she was out like a light. I can bring her back over here if you want, but I'd just let her sleep. Cas has big plans for chocolate chip pancakes and cartoons tomorrow, anyway."

Claire nodded, "Okay, that works. I hope she's not giving you too much trouble."

"She's fine, I promise... Besides, looks like you're gonna want the house quiet in the morning, anyway."

Looking back toward the house, Claire spotted Alfie standing next to the railing of the porch, one hand on the rail, and bent at the waist.

"Was he matching all three of you?" Dean asked.

"Shots. I'm sure Margaret's going to have it worse."

Dean gave her a pat on the shoulder as he started home, and by the time Claire got to the porch, Alfie had both hands on the rail with his forehead resting against the back of his hands. She passed him and went inside, bringing him a glass of water, and leaned on the rail as he rinsed his mouth thoroughly and dumped the remaining water over what was left on the ground before handing her the empty glass.

"Are you coming in?"

Alfie straightened far too fast and swayed precariously, "As soon as I can work the stairs!"

Claire set the glass on the railing and cracked the door before descending the steps, pulling his arm awkwardly over her shoulder, hooking her other arm around his thigh, and heaving him onto her shoulders, causing him to give a startled yelp. He muttered something incoherent as she hurried inside, kicking the door closed behind her and closing distance to the couch.

"Don't you swear at me," she grumbled.

She lowered him carefully to the floor at an angle that would drop him to the couch if she misjudged her placement or his ability to stand.

"Is there anything you can't do?" Alfie asked quietly as he sank in a helpless, but controlled manner to lay on the seat of the couch, attempting to keep hold of her hand.

"Two things. Fly, and grow a tail."

"...can I check on that second one?"

"Goodnight," Claire replied, starting for the stairs.

"No! No, no, no, I'm sorry. Come back. I gotta have you with me," Alfie whined.

Claire chuckled at his rambling from halfway up the stairs, "Oh, I'm with you. But I'm going to bed, and you need to sleep it off."

"Claire... beautiful..." Alfie continued to call after her as she left the bedroom and bathroom doors open, and started taking off her makeup and readying for bed, "I'm serious, I will _crawl_ up those damn stairs... Sleep on the floor, even, if you want me to, I don't care... You're an addiction, and I am always itching for a fix, you know that! ...Being away from you sucks."

Claire stepped out of the bedroom to call downstairs, "If you don't quiet down, I'm gonna drag that couch out onto the back porch so I can sleep."

"Oh, shit, you would, too," Claire heard him say far more quietly, not intending her to hear it.

The house was far closer to silent as she finished brushing her teeth, handled her hair, and changed, until she heard light footsteps on the upstairs landing, and turning to find Alfie with a shaky grip on the door frame.

"Sorry. Not trying to sneak up on you. Just, I'll sleep on the couch, that's okay, I just want a hug first," Alfie mumbled, clumsily wrapping his arms around her, dropping his head to press the bridge of his nose against the side of her neck as she steadied him.

"You don't have to sleep on the couch, I just didn't think I could haul you upstairs."

Alfie chortled, "I married Wonder Woman, game over, everybody go home."

"Go brush your teeth, and I might even let you in the bed."

He squeezed her snugly, "You're the best, I love you."

Claire kept an eye on his unsteady staggering as he managed a weak job of his teeth, stripped out of his clothes, and eventually found his way to the bed, where he promptly wrapped around her once more, "I think I'm coming down."

"I bet you do, I don't think I've seen you this far gone, ever... What are you doing?"

"What?" Alfie asked in an alarmingly blank manner as he dug his hand through the bedclothes and slipped it under the hem of her soft tshirt, "Oh. I'm not, I'm just... That scar... Like a big metal beast chewed you up and you kicked its ass... And then I got to touch you, help you heal. It's sexy."

"It's ugly," Claire giggled.

"Bullshit," Alfie answered immediately, "It's amazing... And your stretchmarks, I kind of liked those better when they were purple, but that silver look now, it's still awesome."

Her jaw dropped in stunned amusement, "What? My stretchmarks?"

"Sexy mother-goddess lightning bolts, yeah."

"Alfie, go to sleep."

"Still hard to believe you carried and gave birth to my child for nine months."

"Carried nine months, if I gave birth for nine months, I would have killed you between contractions."

"Had my baby, whatever, you did it. Fucking glorious. Everything just works, even all the bad shit that I do, and you keep letting me come back."

Claire adjusted his weight a little further off her chest and reached for the nightstand, turning off the lamp before settling back into his vice-like embrace, "What bad shit?"

Alfie mumbled something about galleries and events he went to without her, and her concern began to grow, but there was a change in his tone just before he drifted away from sense, "I almost don't feel bad anymore for letting Crowley kill that guy."

Ice water ran through Claire's veins, and her eyes went wide in the dark. She was startled, but worried Alfie would refuse to tell her more if she wasn't careful. "Who?" she asked as nonchalantly as possible.

"Bartlett."

"What?" Claire asked before she could stop herself, "... Crowley killed him?"

"No, he was with me, he just told them 'do it.' Dropped him off a boat, weighed down... bastard..."

Her breathing was well out of control, but Alfie was too close to sleep to notice. She was able to keep full hyperventilation at bay, but even laying still, she was shaking.

Claire had no clear knowledge of the rate of the passage of time as she stayed motionless, but the moment Alfie was in a deep enough sleep, she quickly untangled herself and slipped away downstairs.

It had to be a dream, a fantasy, or some sort of wishful thinking, she was sure. Or was she? Sure certainly wouldn't have her digging through public records of her old hometown looking for information on a no-account slumlord owner of two or three self-managed properties in a tiny nothing of a town. Sure wouldn't have had her finding his last known address, or an article on his disappearance during an island vacation. Sure never would have found her printing out several pages detailing the missing persons' case, the suspicious raffle no one had heard of until he'd won the tickets, and then wiping her browser history before stashing the small stack of paper in the very back of the least used cabinet in the kitchen.

But the most damning of all, 'sure' couldn't possibly exist with her still sitting quietly on the front porch steps, rocking slightly as the sun began to rise.

* * *


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: I survived my shoulder surgery, yay! Seriously, though, tons of pain, but since I type one-handed, that should help me get this thing moving along.
> 
> Also, gross, but, they scraped off the end of my right collar bone, out toward the shoulder. Who knew that was a thing? LOL
> 
> Anyway, here we go, fresh chapter, and about to start the next one.
> 
> Love you all! Thanks for reading! FW)

* * *

"I get it, I do, really. But you worked really hard to get in, in the first place, and if you hold on 'til the end of the semester, those credits-"

"And the bad grades that go with them, those will follow me. I know," Xander replied, "But there was no point in me actually getting in to start with, we all knew that."

Dean shrugged, standing at the kitchen sink with Melody sitting on the counter next to him. She splashed her bare foot in the warm running water as he lifted her thoroughly soiled pajama shirt off over her head. He wiped gently at the syrup and chocolate that covered her hands and face, and started in on her sticky clumps of hair as he continued to speak, "What about a trade school? If you're going to drop out anyway, we can't stop you, but a trade school would give you more career options so you aren't flipping burgers for the rest of your life."

"Somebody has to flip the burgers. Besides, you love burgers."

Cas, who'd finally gotten to the table after cooking, looked up over his coffee mug, "What about culinary school, then? Better burgers, better pay. Get work somewhere decent, with benefits, or develop and perfect a recipe, and sell it?"

Xander rolled his eyes, "If I was a cook, I'd probably never want to eat again. I'd get bored."

The front door opened quietly, and Claire soon appeared in the archway of the kitchen. She eyed her sticky toddler on the counter, the brown and honey colored smears still gracing the round cheeks, and clumping her fine, dark gold locks, "So, did she actually eat the pancakes, or just roll in them, and try to absorb them through osmosis?"

"She ate," Cas replied, "She was just very messy about it. Clearly, we planned to clean her up before returning her."

"Hide the evidence, you mean? Pretend you didn't sugar her up?"

Cas shrugged, "Grandparents are supposed to spoil children, it's the natural order of things."

Claire pointed across the table from Xander, "Is that why Mike's got buttered bacon?"

Mike grinned widely as Xander got up, clearing his plate. 

"It's unsalted butter, it's really good that way," Xander answered, dodging Dean, who was carrying Melody wrapped in a large bath towel, as he got to the sink.

"You got pictures, right?" Claire asked as Dean went past her, heading for Melody's overnight bag in the living room.

"Of course we did," Dean scoffed, "We're not completely incompetent."

"Awesome," Claire mumbled, turning around to follow him.

"How's the hangover?" Dean asked, settling onto the couch to wrangle a fresh change of clothes onto the small child.

Claire only shrugged, hoping the dark circles below her eyes weren't too obvious. She tried to pretend she hadn't been up all night, worrying and waiting, trying not to make it seem so obvious how wrong she felt inside when she went to collect her child. She hid her intention to get Melody, with her tiny ears, and repeating mouth back home before Alfie woke, in order to keep him silent should he remember what he had said the night before, "He's not awake yet."

"You weren't drinking, though, right? Because you were the one behind the wheel?" Dean probed.

"No, I had a couple really early on, then switched to soda."

"Good idea," Dean muttered as Melody began to cooperate with his efforts, finally climbing up next to him to have her sandals put on.

"I didn't see Ben's car, did you leave it there?" Claire asked.

Dean shrugged, "Ben's an adult, he can stay out all night without telling us. Usually, he checks in, but this is pretty normal nowadays."

* * *

Ben jolted awake as he realized he hadn't left his bedroom window open, and the nearby birdsong was so vivid in his ears because he was outdoors. He sat up far too fast, making himself dizzy, and reached to his side, patting clumsily, "Caitlin, hey, wake up... God, we are in deep shit this time."

Caitlin rolled onto her side, rubbing her face, "Crap... What time is it?"

Ben hurriedly looked around the large blanket they'd fallen asleep on, scrambling to get his phone in his hand, only to find a cheap burner he'd picked up at a gas station the night before, "Six-thirty-seven."

"Ten minutes back to the house, three more to get through my window, and two to make it seem I was there all night. If we go right now, we can just make it," she answered sleepily as she dragged herself to her feet.

"And you won't let me help with the window," Ben grumbled as he gathered the blanket, making a beeline for the driver's door, opening it, and tossing the blanket into the Mustang's tiny back seat.

"It's logistics. She can't press charges on me for breaking and entering or trespass at my legal residence. Meanwhile, she pestered your age out of me, so I had to tell her we broke up when you turned eighteen so she wouldn't have any reason to bother you," Caitlin answered, finding her way into the passenger seat, "How would that look, anyway?"

"Three weeks... Three more weeks, and we're golden."

Ben carefully navigated the low-clearance vehicle out of the large, unused field, and back onto the highway, headed for town.

"The part I don't understand, is how does she not know? I mean, she occasionally leaves the house or have somebody over, I feel like she's pretending to believe me so she can catch us, or something," Caitlin mused, "And she hasn't warned me of the dangers of the secular world or told me I'm going to hell in a while."

Ben shrugged, "She's probably figured out she won't be able to lock you in your room after your birthday, and she's hoping you'll forget."

"You know, if it weren't for you, I probably would have snapped, dropped out, and went home," Caitlin said with a smile, "You kept me from giving up."

"All I did was show you how to get out if you needed to. I mean, what if the house burned down?"

"Right. Except that now I'm better at it than you are."

"Yeah, and always coming up with bigger and better ideas not to get caught. You've got that espionage thing down."

Caitlin pulled her phone from her purse, turning on the camera and using it as a mirror to check her hair for grass and leaves, "Well, if NASA doesn't want me, maybe I'll apply at a government agency with one less letter in the acronym."

"The FDA?" Ben asked, feigning ignorance.

"No, the ATF. Combine all three, and you have a decent party, right?" she asked with a giggle.

Ben's Mustang soon pulled just past her street, stopping at the end of the block, and she leaned in close to kiss him firmly before getting out as fast as she could and running for the back gate of the neighboring yard.

Knowing the routine well, and never failing to follow it, Ben was already off like a shot. Caitlin let herself into the fence of the vacant home next door, went straight to the corner of the yard nearest her window, and slipped between two boards she'd painstakingly rigged previously. Keeping her head down as she got to her bedroom window, the security camera at the front corner of the house missed her entirely as she moved behind the tall fence between the neighbor's yard and her aunt's house.

Reaching the burglar-barred windows, which had been installed poorly to begin with, she raised the bottom half of the window by reaching through the bars, then loosened the bolts that held the top corners to the frame. With practice, she'd learned to loosen them just enough to pull the top half away from the wall without having the bolts fall free of the metal tabs and land in the grass below. The bottom of the framework would have been far easier, but much more risky, as her aunt's eyesight was slowly failing, and she knew the older woman wouldn't be able to inspect the top bolts closely, unlike the low ones, which were much closer to eye level.

Caitlin stepped lightly, going up the cross boards of the fence where it met the exterior wall, held the bars away from the wall, and grasped the eave above her, stepping into the small gap and onto the window sill. She slipped inside feet-first, her shoes landing on an old towel she'd placed on her bedspread on the way out the night before to avoid a repeat of an incidence of muddy shoes that she'd barely been able to hide.

Kneeling awkwardly on the sill, she just had enough reach to turn the bolts by hand, and only to the point that they caught the wooden frame enough to hold it still. She was certain, at this point, with the use and abuse she'd given it, she could probably kick the bars out all in one go.

Backing up, she slid the window closed again, latching it tightly. It had creaked horribly at first, and her aunt likely still expected the noise, but early on, Ben had lifted a partial can of WD-40 from the shop, and at the first chance she had, she'd greased it well and stopped the grinding, complaining noise.

Tossing her mud-towel and purse between the bed and the wall, out of reach of elderly, arthritic joints, she kicked her shoes off the end of the bed and rolled into the covers otherwise fully clothed. She checked the time on the clock on the shelf across the room, and deciding she had the time to make the risk reasonable, she dug her arm down in the gap, finding her purse, retrieving her phone, turning it off, and sneaking it into her pillowcase, running her hand deeply along the top seam until she reached the small hole she'd made, and burrowed it inside.

Caitlin had barely settled in again when a hard pounding erupted on the other side of the door, belieing the old woman's age and physical ability. The metallic clicks of the lock on the outside of the door - cheap and easily broken, more psychological than truly physically imprisoning for a healthy teen - sounded, signaling her morning freedom. She had grown to resent the sound, well aware it was the sound of oppression being lifted that never should have been imposed on her at all.

* * *

With an unobtrusive tapping, Kevin slipped through the front door, and Mike charged him, sliding in his socks on the hard floor with a waist-tackling hug, "Daddy!"

"Hey, hey, slow down. Don't beat me up, buddy!" Kevin exclaimed as he made an awkward catch of the barreling boy, and patted his back.

"Pop-pop made chocolate pancakes!" Mike informed him.

Claire looked up from the armchair, "Yeah, kiddo, he can see it all over your face. You need to go wash up."

"Yeah, go on," Kevin directed before Mike tore off for the downstairs bathroom. Kevin stepped around the end of the couch, "How'd it go? You sick of him yet?"

Dean chuckled, "Well, y'know, _Cas_ just loves kids-"

"You arranged it," Cas called from the kitchen, "You can't suggest it was my doing."

Melody skillfully maneuvered across Dean to climb onto Kevin's lap and wrap her small arms around his neck for a hug before climbing off the couch and going back to the box of toys kept in the corner for her.

"How's Margaret feeling?" Claire asked quickly, hoping to hear something less censored with Mike out of the room.

Kevin shook his head, "She's fine, she just drank a bunch of water when she got home, and she's sleeping it off. Just sleeps right through the worst of it, so she thinks she doesn't get hung over."

"Load of crap," Claire muttered.

"I didn't say that I think that, I said she does. But I guarantee, you go over and wake her up, she'll cuss you out and throw things at your face."

"That's almost comforting," Claire responded dryly.

"Yeah, good to know you kids are settling down," Dean said, getting up from the couch, looking up the stairs behind it to find Nick at the top, her head low, giving a weak wag.

He went upstairs quickly, picked up the aging dog, and brought her down gently. She'd gone gray around the muzzle and eyes and had started taking issues with puppies Ben would foster, being in no mood to tolerate them as her arthritis had further developed. As a result, Ben was no longer fostering puppies, and although regrettable, as the dog's health slowly went downhill, Ben had been spending far less time with her. The only exception was their morning routine, which had caused a panic one morning when Nick had gotten up in the middle of the night and wandered in to sleep on the floor next to his and Cas' bed. Ben, in his half-awake state, had yelled at Xander so loudly, and as abruptly as it had woken him, he'd been half sure Cas had to be halfway to a second heart attack. There was no doubt in his mind that Ben still loved the dog dearly, but it was clear that they all felt what was coming, after all, a dog's life is too pure to last long. Somehow, unlike the puppies she'd snap at, she'd always graciously accepted every awkward knee, elbow, or shared cookie she could get from Mike and Melody.

The front door swung open as he set Nick on the floor, letting her get her balance before letting go, and Ben appeared. "You didn't have to do that, Dad, I know her schedule."

"Yeah? Because her schedule is running half an hour behind. She's old, she can't hold it."

Ben gave a rude huff and went straight to the back door to open it for her.

Claire gave Dean a questioning look, but he only gave a dismissive shake of his head.

* * *

As the driveway at the larger house had become more crowded with four vehicles to place, Kevin had parked his car at the shop, and Claire walked back with him as the two children chased after each other and played with rocks that littered their path.

"You've known Alfie basically all your life, right?" Claire asked quietly.

"Yeah, but biblically, only that one time. Why?"

Claire glanced at her bedroom window where she was sure her husband was still sleeping off the unpleasantness that followed the celebration the night before, "What's the worst thing he's ever done? I mean, that you know of?"

Kevin looked taken aback as he considered her question, "Uh... Well... This might take me a while. Why are you asking?"

"I just... He said something last night, I don't think he'll remember. Sounds like he feels guilty about it, and I was just wondering if you had any idea what it might be about."

"Well, he tells me just about everything, and I see plenty. At least enough to tell you that you have nothing to worry about. I mean, obviously, if you can steal him from me, nobody else has a chance."

Claire scoffed, "That's not it."

"No?" Kevin asked, "What the hell else would you worry about?"

She shook her head, "Nevermind, I shouldn't have asked."

Kevin came to an abrupt stop, holding out an arm to stop her as well, "No, c'mon. He's out of town as often as he is, and you're not worried about him cheating on you because you know him, like, right down into his soul. I don't think the guy is capable of shoplifting a candy bar, okay? And from the look on your face, neither do you. If he feels guilty about something, it's probably something small, and maybe even worth feeling bad about. But if he was a shitty person, he wouldn't last long, not around your family."

Claire shifted slightly, refusing to meet his eyes until he set a hand on her shoulder. When she looked up, he didn't like what he saw.

"You know that if you want to tell me something, I can keep my mouth shut. I've done that for you before. No judgment."

She opened her mouth to speak, only to hesitate, close it again, and shake her head as she looked away.

Kevin pulled her into a hug, "Okay. Don't worry about it, it's a standing offer. Now I've known him almost since birth, but we were friends years before you ever met him, and we still are, that's got to count for something... Anything comes up, you know where I'm at. Okay?"

Claire nodded, turning her attention back to the children a little way ahead of them, where Mike was gently prying a large rock from Melody's hand and mouth. She hurried forward, "Not this again. Mel, spit it out!"

* * *

Julie turned slowly in place, taking in the size of the open floor plan containing the main living areas of the house. After several years in the cottage-sized mobile home, the house felt enormous.

"Can we really afford this?" Julie asked, her words barely a whisper.

"Two tours, three albums, and a deal for five more. Trust me, we can afford it," Ivan answered, looking around as well.

"It's bigger than my mom's house."

"Yeah, but it won't suck. We've got the loving family part down, we're just moving it to a bigger space."

"Ivan, this is..."

"A lot, all at one time, almost feels like too much?" Ivan asked, "That's okay. But we can't live in a trailer our whole lives, not if we want more kids, and you said-"

"I know what I said."

Ivan chuckled, "And the girls can have their own rooms, and we can all have a little more space to breathe. They don't stay small, you know."

"Don't remind me," Julie fussed, moving into the kitchen area of the same large room, "Is that a second sink? Oh, that is nice... There's got to be something wrong with this place."

"There is. You and the girls don't live here, so if I'm going to tell the realtor to bring on the papers, I need to know you'll like it here. Otherwise, we go tell her to cut the budget in half and look for a place that's just, y'know, not a complete dump."

Julie turned her big brown eyes to Ivan, and attempted a smile, "But then we couldn't brag about having the biggest house in town."

"It's not the biggest. She said there's two larger houses in town, and-"

"And they both suck... But wouldn't it be better to move closer to Austin? That way you'd have less time on the road, more time with us?"

Ivan shook his head, "We could move to Nashville or Chicago, it'd make no difference... Besides, I'm gonna get a jet and use that to commute."

Julie looked skeptical as she examined the backyard through a window, and Ivan stepped closer.

"The cost of living is low here, Claire explained it to me once, when she was ass-deep in economic textbooks. She said the town is isolated enough that prices and wages stay really low, no major companies want to move here, it runs on the people who live here full time, and the college keeps it from drying up. That's why we have a bunch of old people, and introverts who work from home. We move any closer to a larger city, and what we can afford gets smaller and harder to get."

"If we move in here, will we have to stop putting my checks straight into savings?"

"No... Although, we could just save a bunch anyway, and you could stop working if you wanted. Stay home with the girls, that could be good."

"I would lose my mind."

Ivan nodded, and continued to watch as Julie tried to take it all in, "Do you really want to be here? In this town, I mean? Because everything is opening up, all kinds of options, small towns, small cities, middle of nowhere, or stuff that's right in the middle of everything. Just, as long as the kids are happy and safe, we can go anywhere, do whatever you want to do."

"You think I should want more than this?" Julie asked.

The two had always had the bluntest of conversations, rarely taking anything personally, but there seemed to be an unasked question hidden in her words.

Ivan shrugged, "What you want is what you want. Just, if there is something you want, you don't always tell me. Do you want a smaller place? All one floor? Or a houseboat on a lake? Or do you want to go back to school and get a degree before we start planning out the next kid? I'm all ears."

"I don't know," Julie whispered, "My whole life has been life happening to me, and the few times I've wanted something and had the guts to say so, most times it sucked. Well, except for you, you're okay, I guess."

"I'm okay?" Ivan laughed, "Come on, Julie, who doesn't have hopes and dreams and shit? Not that you have to have them, if what you want is to stay here where you know everybody and keep running the diner, and eventually retire here, that's okay too. But honestly, you're so focused on not complaining all the time, sometimes I wonder if you're just killing time for your whole life."

"I knew it!" Julie spun around, pointing a finger at his face, "I knew that song was about me, you rotten liar!"

"What song?"

"Make a Wish. It is, isn't it?"

Sheepishly, he looked away, "That could be about anybody."

Julie narrowed her eyes, then shrugged, "Okay, fine. Yes, I want the house, but I want better carpet on the stairs."

"Done."

"Because if the kids fall on them, they'll be kind of padded."

"Anything else?"

"Something selfish?"

"Yes! God, for once, please!" Ivan exaggerated.

"Buy me a new car."

Ivan looked suspicious, "Why? What's wrong with your car? Is the engine light on again?"

"No. I just want a new one."

Ivan smirked, "Progress."

Julie's face slowly changed, "I'm sorry, was that bitchy? It felt like that was bitchy."

"Nope. But you're going to take the kids into account when you get it, so-"

"Diamond tennis bracelet," Julie cut him off with a giggle.

"What, no crown?" Ivan asked, "No, I'm kidding, yes, I'll get you a bracelet. And the car, and the carpet, and the house."

"And what do you get out of this?" Julie asked.

Ivan scoffed, "If the old lady's happy, everybody's happy. I'm not the brightest fish in the toolshed, but I'm smart enough to know that."

* * *

Out of everyone who worked at the shop, the only person who had any difficulty stepping over the baby gate was Lucas, and that was only due to his height. As such, after three consecutive days of it impeding the garage-end of the dark hallway, it was Lucas who decided to approach Claire.

Melody was sitting on the floor in Dean's office playing with several small toy cars, a few dolls, and some soft foam blocks that were patterned to look like wood as Claire was busily transcribing something from the top of a thick stack of paper when Lucas leaned into the doorway, "How much longer?"

"Until what?" Claire asked, not looking up.

"Until daycare, or a sitter, or something? Or is she going to start helping me rotate tires?" Lucas asked, gesturing to the floor.

Claire rose slightly from her seat to get a look at her daughter, who was on hands and knees, turning in a circle to drive one of the toy cars around her, a floppy doll in the other hand, and a foam block held in her mouth stifling the engine noises she growled out as she played. Claire sat back down, fixing Lucas with a very careful no-nonsense look, "Is she bothering you? Keeping you from getting your work done?"

Lucas huffed, "What's the baby gate guideline in the insurance policy, in case I break my neck? Oh, wait! We don't have one, that's right, because it's not a freaking daycare center!"

"Get out of my office, close the door, and take the gate down," Claire said cooly, turning back to her work.

"Does she open doors yet? Because a lot of parents only find that out after they find their kid facedown in a pool. If Alfie needs some time off, she's safer going to work with Cas, at least they're set up for kids there."

Claire turned her attention back to him, fire in her eyes, "Are you about done? Because you're butting in somewhere that doesn't affect you. You had a problem, problem is fixed, and you're still pushing."

"Like I care if she gets applesauce and crumbs all over the damn place. She's not safe here, and you know it! Or did you forget what your hands looked like after holding Xander's head shut?"

"Out!" Claire snapped.

"You having problems at home?"

"Lucas, I swear to god-"

"I'm serious, I wanna know. Because you wouldn't have her in here without some kind-"

Randy's large hand reached into the room from the doorway, pulling Lucas back out of the room by his shoulder, and nearly dragging him back to the garage. Through the scuffle, Claire could easily hear their banter, Randy insisting Lucas give it a rest or take it up with Dean, and Lucas responding that he wasn't starting trouble, and Randy had misread the situation.

She sat uncomfortably, considering her behavior over the past several days, and she knew sooner than later she'd be approached by more than just Lucas over her 'acting weird.'

Claire watched a small plastic pony with unnatural pastel colors being trotted across the far edge of the desk by a tiny hand as she weighed her options. She had never considered Alfie capable of violence, and this shook her to the core. The victim, also former perpetrator, was no innocent bystander, but that did nothing to ease her mind where her husband was concerned. She'd wished Bartlett dead thousands of times, even considered tracking him down herself, especially once Bobby had given her a gun. Maybe he had it coming.

Watching her daughter play, she was certain his death was karma catching up with him, further protecting society, but it did nothing to absolve her husband's involvement.

She couldn't bear the thought of confronting him with Melody nearby. She had been able to pretend nothing was wrong for a few days, hoping somehow she'd forget and be able to ignore it, but the knowledge had taken root in her mind, and her thoughts were beginning to fester.

Given the situation, she wasn't sure she'd be able to confront him herself, but until more information came to light, she didn't feel safe at all. The more she thought about it, the more obvious it became that this was not something she'd be able to handle alone.

She could predict easily that approaching either Cas or Dean would lead to both of them conferring on it and then confronting Alfie, likely without taking her wishes into account. Her brothers and co-workers, she assumed, were too immature to see any possible negative consequences, and would be glad to hear it, and then let it go.

Claire found herself struggling to breathe calmly, and calling Sam crossed her mind. Certainly, law school had to have covered more than just divorce and custody, he'd have some idea what sort of legal ramifications could arise, and he couldn't be implicated or report it due to attorney-client privilege.

On second thought, he might just tell Dean. Claire liked the guy, but she didn't know him well enough to trust him to keep this from his brother, not as close as they'd been over the past several years.

She pulled out her phone, looking through the contacts list, hoping someone would come to mind. Had anyone else been mentioned in Alfie's drunken ramblings, she would have contacted Crowley already.

Lucius' number caught her eye, but while he'd always been kind to her, something about the guy just felt off. She was tempted, but only enough to realize that what she really required was the help of someone who'd go into this with Alfie's best interests in mind. Possibly even someone who'd put his well being above her own, but it had to be someone who'd take her seriously.

* * *


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: TRIGGER WARNING!!! - Pregnancy loss. Nothing more graphic than emotion.
> 
> Sped through this chapter, and the one following it, so I have caught up to myself!!! Yay! I'm the best one-handed typist with nothing else to, ever!
> 
> Thanks for reading! Take care of yourselves! FW)

* * *

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Dean took a few deep breaths before gathering himself and returning to his task of removing the passenger side door of a classic Volkswagen Beetle. He wasn't a fan, but he had to admit they were certainly sturdy.

He stopped again as his phone began to ring, an unfamiliar number on the screen, and expected it to be a tow, "This is Dean."

"Dean, it's um..." the feminine voice on the other end paused to sniffle, clearly upset about something. It wasn't Claire, and it was too high to be Jessica, "I'm really sorry, I don't have my phone with me, I just... I didn't want to call Ben when he's in class, and it's just... I don't know what to do, and I looked up the tow number because Ben said it was your cell."

"Caitlin? Hey, it's okay, what's going on?"

Somewhere, lost in her broken voice muffled by barely controlled sobs, he made out a few words.

"Who's in the hospital? Is it your great aunt?"

"No," she choked out, "Me, but they said I can't go unless I have a ride home, they won't let me leave."

"Okay, kiddo, I'm not understanding you real clear right now-"

"I'm sorry-"

"It's okay, just tell me real quick, do you need somebody to come down there?"

"Y-yeah," Caitlin choked out.

"Okay, you want me to stop and get your aunt on the way so she can sign you out?"

"No. No, she can't... All I need is a ride, they said I can go."

Dean felt sure, due to her age, that she was mistaken, but shook his head, "Okay, that's fine, I'll be there, just give me five minutes, okay?"

In the time it took to page into the shop that he was headed out, he'd already slipped through a gap in the fence, and made it to his car. He spent most of the drive into town considering how the hospital could allow a minor to leave without a guardian being involved, but still require someone competent to drive them. He wondered if they were bending the rules, he knew her birthday was coming up fast, Ben had been agonizing over it in private, but he'd overheard a few conversations with Xander, and his hopes that were her parents to come to town, he'd get to meet them. That had thrown him for a loop, considering certain threats the old woman had made concerning Ben.

He knew from past experience helping a friend that treatment for illicit drug use could not be reported to a minor's parents, but that didn't seem too likely where Caitlin was concerned. On the other hand, college was stressful, and had she been given the option to take something to lower stress or keep her awake, she may have opted for a chemical advantage, and a bad reaction to a drug not prescribed to her would qualify.

Given Caitlin's age, if her elderly aunt were guilty of any domestic scuffles, she might be advised to stay at a friend's house while the local law enforcement looked the other way, and he wouldn't rule that out. He decided that if it were the case, he'd call Linda and beg the use of her guest room. She was strict, but nothing like Caitlin's aunt.

She had been crying fairly hard, which caused far less pleasant statistics regarding campus sexual assaults to come to mind. Given the culture of shame surrounding the faith her aunt practiced, he could see why, if it were the case, she'd choose to keep such a thing to herself.

Reaching the small hospital, and ultimately deciding he was growing very tired of returning to the place, he parked the car and headed inside to the desk, needing a moment to recall her last name. He was directed to a seating area near the door and waited.

It wasn't long before Caitlin appeared, her eyes red, her pale face blotchy. A nurse with an overbearing demeanor walked with her, and passed her a folder with the hospital's logo on it as they reached the waiting area. Dean could make out a hint of a tremble in the girl's shoulders.

"Hey, what's wrong? Are you okay?" Dean asked, getting up.

The nurse looked him over with a shred of disgust in her gaze, "And you're okay leaving with him? You're sure?"

Caitlin nodded, "He's my boyfriend's dad. He won't tell my aunt."

"There's no reason for him to know, either." the nurse answered quickly. Something in her tone combined with the dirty look she gave him, making Dean very uncomfortable, "Sir, I just want to make sure you understand that we are releasing a competent minor into your care, and as we have security cameras, we will have you on video leaving with her."

Dean's eyebrows nearly met, "Um... okay?"

With a nearly imperceptible huff, the nurse hurried away again, disappearing further into the building.

"Why'd she get so mean all of a sudden?" Caitlin said quietly, looking in the direction the nurse had gone.

Dean shook his head, "Don't worry about it. What about you? Are you sick? Hurt? I couldn't understand you on the phone."

Caitlin cringed, fighting back tears, "I was-... I was getting ready to tell Ben, I was gonna talk to him about it, and, just, now there's nothing to tell, or if I tell him, I don't know if I should, this is... This is all my fault!"

With far too many eyes turning in their direction, Dean, who had an idea what was likely happening, put an arm around her shoulders and led her outside, "It's not your fault. Come on, let's just get you out of here, if you need to vent or cry or whatever, better to do that where the whole town won't hear it, okay?"

Dean shuffled her outside quickly, and soon had the doors of the car closed around them before Caitlin began weeping openly. Reluctant to start the car just yet, Dean pulled his phone from his shirt pocket, unlocking the screen, "Caitlin, that nurse was right, this is none of my business, but it sounds an awful lot like you were pregnant... and that you lost the baby. Is that what's going on?"

Her sobs went silent as she nodded.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, that is hard stuff to deal with at any age, but especially this young. But it's still not your fault... Do you want to call somebody? Maybe your mom? I can step out for a minute, I don't mind."

Caitlin shook her head as he offered her the phone, "She'd call my aunt, and my aunt would kick me out."

Dean shrugged, "Getting kicked out isn't as bad as your aunt makes it sound, I can tell you that right now."

* * *

After closely monitoring the school assembly, Cas went to his office to take a break from his incredibly busy morning, only to find a message from Dean in his texts, and called.

"Hey, sweetheart," Dean answered, "Tell me again how much you love me."

"Why? Did you break the furnace again?"

"Uh... No." Dean answered. Cas could hear a loud metallic creak in the background, followed by something landing hard, "Sonofabitch... Nope. I, um... Picked up a stray. And I know how you love when I do that."

"Does this stray plan to sleep in the yard?" Cas asked wryly.

"No, Ben can sleep in the yard, half of this is his fault, anyway."

"Dean-"

"Okay, that deal we've got on info being community property? You gotta keep this one quiet, babe."

"Okay?"

"I picked up Caitlin from the E.R. earlier. You work with kids, so you know what medical emancipation is, ...anyway, it didn't take. Or, it did, but not for long, and-"

Cas heaved a big sigh as Dean spoke before cutting him off, "Did you call the sheriff's office to warn them where she'll be when you get reported for kidnapping?"

"I'm not kidnapping, I'm harboring a runaway, at best. But I know you've been dying to report her great aunt for a while now, you just didn't because she was trying to tough it out for her education. How's she supposed to grieve and heal? And you know what kind of crap that old bat would throw her way if she found out."

Cas scratched his eyebrow and leaned forward, exhausted from the day that was only half over, "Is she going to tell Ben?"

"I love that you're asking that and not assuming. But yeah, I think she will. I mean, he's gonna figure somethings up when he realizes she's at the house, but... Kinda had a long talk. She's a sweet kid, worrying about how much it's gonna hurt him to hear about it, but I told her, y'know, it's kind of a two-person thing. He'd want to know... And god do I hope I'm right about that."

He heard tools clanking into a bag and the sound of Dean lifting something heavy with a distant request to 'hang on,' and leaned more heavily on his desk.

"Still there?"

"Of course, dear," Cas replied tiredly, "Do you suppose this will have any effect on Ben's plan to get an apartment near campus with Jack?"

"Maybe. If it changes anything, I mean. Might speed things up, or if she decides to move back to her parents', might slow things down another year."

"Well, if you get home before I do, find out if she needs anything from the store."

* * *

Kevin caught hold of Mike's ankle, and dragged him along the floor on his back as he went to answer the front door. Mike squirmed free and scrambled to his feet as soon as he saw Claire, and lead Melody straight to the crayons and paper that covered the coffee table, happy to have some company, even from a 'baby.'

"You'd never know she scared the shit out of him until she started crawling," Claire mused.

"Tiny, demanding version of you? What's not to be afraid of?" Kevin joked, closing the door behind her, "What's up? Just hanging out?"

Claire shook her head, "I just, um... I think something's wrong. And I, uh..."

Margaret looked up from the couch, and seeing the pained look on Claire's face pointed toward the back hallway earning a nod from Kevin, jumped up from the couch and hurried to the kitchen, "Ice cream time!"

As Mike scrambled after her, and Melody ran along behind, Kevin tugged at Claire's arm, and the two of them ducked around the corner and into the guest room.

"Okay," Kevin said, closing the door, "What's up? What's the wrong thing?"

"I don't even know if he knows he said it, I don't know if it's real, if I'm just going crazy, or what the hell is happening, I just know I can't talk to him, and Lucas is pissed because I keep bringing Mel to the shop, but I don't want her there, and if he finds-"

"Claire! Woah! Chill! You're turning funny colors!" Kevin stopped her, and hurried her over to an armchair in the corner of the room, "Okay... He said something, was it the thing he said drunk the other night?"

Claire nodded, biting her lip, "He said... He said he almost didn't feel bad about letting Crowley kill a guy. Or something, I'm not sure exactly what the words were."

"Kill a guy?"

"Yeah, he said that. That part was clear. And when I asked him who, he said... It was, um... It was the guy."

Kevin shook his head slightly to indicate that he wasn't catching her meaning.

" _The_ guy. He said his name."

" _The_ guy? ...The guy that hurt you?"

"You think he'd kill anybody else?" Claire snapped in a harsh whisper.

"But he didn't actually kill him, Crowley did, right? Or had somebody do it for him?"

"How is that any different?" Claire asked as her voice changed, struggling with days of pent-up stress.

"Because we know him, he's not a violent person. Think for a second, if Crowley decided to have somebody whacked, and Samandriel knew, but couldn't stop him, would he still blame himself for it?"

Claire settled her hand over her mouth as she tried to keep quiet, but she nodded.

"So, that leaves us a decent chance that he wasn't actually involved, just knew, and feels guilty. If it happened at all."

"I looked it up online... Alfie said that the guy was thrown off a boat, and weighed down. I looked up the records of property owners where my mom lived, found the guy's information, and he went missing a few years ago."

"When?" Kevin asked.

"I wasn't looking too close, I just know it was before the wedding."

Kevin scoffed, "Sure. Of course. Who needs china patterns and a toaster when you can get a revenge killing instead?"

"Kev,-"

"Sorry!" Kevin held his hands up, "Okay, so Samandriel says it happened, sort of, but he doesn't remember admitting it, and the guy disappeared, not a complete connection there-"

"He went missing on a trip to Guam. A trip he won, that just materialized out of nowhere, and stopped existing just as fast... That's suspicious as hell."

Kevin's face fell, "Well, I was gonna say it would take a lot of money to pull that off, but... Damn."

"I printed it out," Claire admitted, picking at her nails as she stared at her hands, "Everything I could find, I had the paper, and then I wiped the browser history. I don't think he remembers telling me at all, but I am freaking out right now... Would he do that? And if I told my dad-"

"I dunno, your dad might just pat him on the back and say 'good job, son,'" Claire didn't respond, and he regretted the joke immediately, "Okay, seriously, though, I'll go talk to him, where'd you stash the paper you printed up?"

"Is this something I should talk to him about myself? Am I just chickening out?"

"You've had the better part of a week to... y'know, ask him about his business. Meanwhile, he's like my hetero soulmate, so I'm gonna go find out what the hell is up with him murdering people, while you worry about you and your kid, the way you've been doing. And you've been doing great so far. I mean, if he was abusive, you'd be doing everything right, pretend you know nothing, gather evidence, and get out when it's safe. You're smart, Claire, but you don't have to be on the front lines every single time... And if he did actually have a part in this, and he really did let his uncle murder somebody, the stupidest thing you could do is confront him alone, or with your kid there."

Claire took several deep breaths as she processed what Kevin was saying to her, then nodded, "I put them in the cabinet that sticks over the back of the fridge. We never use it."

"See? You know what you're doing. Now, whatever happens after I go talk to him, you probably need some time to chill, you know you and Mel can stay here with us as long as you need to."

"I'm just not sure I can deal with him being a dangerous person," Claire whimpered, wiping at the tears on her cheeks.

"Then all three of us pack up the kids and move somewhere that they're cool with bigamy, and I'll pass you off as my extra wife," Claire couldn't completely stifle a chuckle as he pulled her out of the chair for a tight hug, "You know we've got you, right?"

"Yeah."

Kevin let her go gently, and backed up a step, "Shut your phone off, we'll go into lockdown, and if anything stupid happens, go straight to the garage. Mags can explain the whole emergency evac plan."

Claire looked conflicted, "But it's Alfie, I mean, that's kind of extreme."

"We're literally the experts on this. And you only came over here because you're pretty sure a murder happened. You trust us, and we'll do everything humanly possible to keep you and Mel safe, and hopefully this boils down to nothing and we forget it ever happened. But every step of this goes by the book, because that book has been written by every time something like this went wrong, every time some asshole lost their cool and went after their spouse and kids. All you have to do is follow orders, can you do that? I know that's hard for you."

"I can do that," Claire nodded, "I can do it for Mel."

Kevin quietly went back to the main area of the house, catching Margaret's attention over the bar where she was adding syrups and sprinkles to small bowls, "Hey, we need a lockdown, so, bolt the door after me, and if we still have Mike's bed rail in the garage, we might need it in the guest room."

"The bed in the one next to Mike's room is bigger, so's the tub," Margaret replied.

Kevin shrugged, "Whatever you ladies want to do. I'll park on the street to leave the driveway clear, and I'll come in through the back door. Everything else should be locked."

Detouring slightly to take the bowls to the coffee table, never worrying about the carpet, Margaret followed him to the front door, gave him a quick kiss, and as he'd asked her to, bolted the door shut behind him.

Claire found herself standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, sure she'd made the right choice in getting to where she was now, but completely lost as to what she was supposed to do next.

"Claire, you look shellshocked, you want to sit down and think? Or maybe go grab a bath? I can keep Melody busy."

It took Claire a few seconds to realize Margaret was speaking to her, and as she came back to herself, she only shrugged.

"Maybe send your dad a text before you turn off your phone?" Margaret suggested.

"I have no idea what I'd say."

Margaret reached out a hand, and Claire unlocked her phone before passing it to her.

"Okay, sending to 'Dad,' let's see, 'Needed a break, Mel and I are at a friends' house for a couple days. Wanted to let you know we're ok before I turn off my phone. I'll call you tomorrow, heart heart.' How's that?" Margaret asked, showing her the screen.

"'Heart heart?' He'll never believe that's me."

Margaret shrugged, "I don't think there's a dead stripper emoji."

"There isn't, I checked... Do you get how weird it is that you guys have this down like some kind of weekly ritual?" Claire said softly, not wanting the children to hear her.

"Us freaking out wouldn't do anything to help anybody. Now I'm working pushing papers around in file maintenance in a crappy county office, but I'm still kind of desensitized from putting in five years there. Creeps, in general, can't scare me anymore, just one in particular, and he _wisely_ made the choice to steer clear of me. I even managed a short call with my mom a couple months ago."

"How'd that go?"

"She's doing good since the divorce, she's got an Etsy shop, and she sent me some pics of my nephew, so I mailed her a school photo of Mikey, and she actually seems to be coming around on the idea that I'm never getting married. Of course, she said it like we could, god, what did she say... Oh yeah, she goes, 'maybe you can decide to have a holy marriage without actually having a wedding or getting the state involved. I just wish you had God involved.'"

"Was God invited to her divorce hearing?" Claire asked, making Margaret snort.

"Right? ... Okay, how's this, 'Need some time to clear my head, took Mel to K and M's for a couple days. Call you tomorrow, turning off my phone.' Better?"

Claire shrugged, "I guess that sounds like me."

Her attention wandered to a large black and white portrait on the wall, a beautiful piece that she'd been happy to help with at the time. Mike had been a newborn, and after some back and forth planning, Alfie had arranged it.

The background was a heavily shaded and blurred field of darkness, and suspended in the center was Mike sleeping peacefully, curled in the fetal position, as he preferred those days, nearly upside down, his head carefully tilted back. Around his tiny body was an artificial womb of aged hands, Linda's, and as an appropriate stand-in, Dean's, as his head appeared to be gently slipping into four more waiting hands, those of Kevin and Margaret. It was a beautiful depiction of birth and family to look at it alone, but she preferred her own version, with her own making-of story in her memory.

Dean had protested that his hands were too rough, and might bother Mike's delicate skin, but Alfie had argued that the entire point was that they were large, weathered, calloused, and scarred, providing a sharp contrast, and having been stuck behind a desk for years, Cas' wouldn't have the same effect. Dean's arms having the most endurance, it was easily decided that he'd take most of Mike's weight, and Linda had to carefully crowd in navigating both Dean and the small makeshift backdrop, with Mike hovering only a few inches above the thick pillows on the coffee table, just out of frame. All eight hands in the photo had to hold perfectly still as Claire sent small, fast ripples through the fabric of the backdrop, and Alfie had taken the photo with a long exposure, only to find that Mike had yawned. The second attempt was better, although one of Mike's tiny feet had slipped out of place, and part of Margaret's hair had been showing, but Alfie had been able to combine both images into one before further digitally manipulating the photo.

Margaret caught her gaze as she powered down the phone, and Claire gave a shrug, "He sees a lot of beauty in the world."

Margaret nodded, and glanced at the children, who were completely absorbed in ice cream, and now, cartoons, and gestured to Claire to follow, "C'mere, I want to show you something."

Claire followed her around the corner into the hallway that held the doors to the garage, Mike's room, which had been Alfie's, the main bath, and finally Rachel's old room, "I haven't been in here in years."

"I come in here sometimes because the tub is huge and I don't have to wear a suit, like the hot tub, but mostly it stays closed," Margaret replied, using every ounce of her tiny frame to shift a dresser away from the wall, "Anyway, I thought you might want to see this."

Margaret pulled from the tight space a small poster-sized print, curled with age and ripped nearly in half, the two large pieces barely holding together by a section about two inches wide where the rip hadn't completed, and laid it out, dust and all on the satiny duvet on the bed.

Claire looked closely at the woman in the picture. It was nowhere near the quality of Alfie's current works, but she could tell from having seen him obsess over a piece that this one had taken him a very long time, and he'd likely gone over it meticulously, with hundreds of small adjustments.

It was Rachel, years younger, and far warmer and loving than anything she'd seen of the woman in real life.

"This shit is why he hates doing portraits. I heard part of it from Kevin, part of it from Linda, and part of it from Alfie, but basically, he worked on this for weeks, like, every free minute he had, as a mothers day gift for her, and probably a good idea, too, since she's so self-absorbed. But she thought it was some kind of joke, said it made her look ugly and old, and she laughed, ripped it, and asked what he really got her."

"Oh my god," Claire muttered.

"Gets better, she left a few days later. Got different stories on that one, one was that it was when she left for Paris and didn't come back until Melody was born, the other was that she wasn't back for six months, but, either way, 'mom of the year,' and then she split," Margaret said softly, hopping up onto the edge of the tall bed, "Really kinda spells out how he got so attached to Mr Singer so fast, that guy would give him his undivided attention, and his criticism was rough, but constructive. And he might have acted like a total hard-ass, but he'd also give him encouragement."

Claire nodded, "I didn't know you knew Bobby."

"Not like you did, my mom was part of the garden club that his wife was in, and when she died we went and took him some freezer dinners and some of the ladies went and helped get his house looking nice for the wake. He got roped into subbing for one of my social studies classes one time, though. I guess he served in Viet Nam, and some of the boys were being assholes, asking questions, getting the whole thing off track. He shut them down and said if they had a free period, he would be happy to answer unrelated questions later on, but if we didn't learn about wars leading up to the one he served in, we wouldn't be educated enough to ask the right questions, or understand the answers he gave... Or something like that."

Claire wiped more of the dust off the print, as though it might clarify more of her husband's mind, but a quick look towards the closet where years ago she'd found a shredded, bloodstained jacket settled her suspicions.

"When I was in the hospital after the accident when Will died, I had a dream I was talking to him. He said Alfie was more of a mess than I knew, I guess whatever that was, was right."

"Like a beyond the grave kind of thing?" Margaret asked.

Claire shrugged, "Subconscious mind, who knows? Maybe I was just delirious from blood-loss."

"I don't want to pry, but if you need to talk...?"

Claire shook her head, "Nah, but you were probably right about that nap, it's just been days that I've been on edge the whole time, like I can't even breathe."

Margaret nodded and took the poster off the bed, holding the undamaged side against the top back edge of the dresser as she pushed it back against the wall before letting go of it.

"Why do you keep it?" Claire asked as her weariness caught up to her, "I mean, it's trash, right?"

"Is it? It's the only one, and he deleted the file. It's busted as hell, but it's not exactly taking up space. And as much as she hated it, it would serve her right if she ever gets a biography written about her after she dies with that shredded, dusty picture on the cover, showing the whole world what a huge bitch she was."

* * *


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: Man, when it rains, it pours, huh? Luckily, life has been a little slow, lately.
> 
> Thanks for reading! FW)

* * *

Ben arrived home later than he'd expected, after a day of a concerning level of radio silence from Caitlin. Assuming she'd lost her secret phone, or her aunt had found it, he'd tried to meet her after a class she never missed only to be told by one of her acquaintances that she'd been absent, and had missed another class they were both in a few hours before.

He'd planned to email her, or possibly block his number and prank call her aunt several times, but scaling the front steps, the door swung open before he could reach for the handle. With a heavy look, Dean stepped out onto the porch and pulled him into a hug he wasn't expecting.

"Caitlin's upstairs, she wants to talk to you," Dean said quietly.

Ben met his eyes with a glance of confusion before hurrying inside.

As he took the stairs two at a time, Xander looked over the back of the couch, and then to Dean who was closing the front door as Ben's bedroom door upstairs shut quickly, "What happened to having the door open when there's girls here?"

"Stay out of it."

"Stay out of it? I couldn't even cram for a final without the damn dogs running in because Millie was over here, and that was completely pointless because-"

"Xander," Dean said firmly, "Give it a rest. This is private, stay the hell out of it."

"Privately double standard," Xander mumbled as Dean got to the kitchen.

* * *

Alfie was lost in a deep, meditative concentration on the contours of a tiny corner of a brick wall on his screen in the small open reading nook upstairs between the two bedrooms when the front door swung open.

"Yo, Sandman? You around?" Kevin called, closing the door behind him.

"Yeah," Alfie called in reply, still engrossed by the colors on the computer.

"C'mon out, I gotta talk to you."

"Uh, sure. Gimme a second."

"Move your ass, I don't have all day."

Alfie rolled his eyes, saved his progress, and started tiredly down the stairs, "What's the big deal you have to come tearing through here?"

He stopped in his tracks as he reached the bottom of the stairs and found Kevin standing on the edge of the kitchen counter, fishing a stack of printed paper out of the only empty cabinet in the kitchen.

"I figured we were about due for a game of 'I never,' so," Kevin said gruffly, jumping down to the floor as only Kevin could, "I'll go first."

Kevin shoved Alfie roughly over toward the table, making him sit down, and started leafing through the papers, "Okay, I don't what the hell you're doing, but-"

"Never have I ever..." Kevin said, slapping pieces of paper down onto the paper in front of him in rapid succession, "... drunkenly confessed to being part of a murder and scared the hell out of my wife."

Alfie looked over the printed news articles and released security stills, the same words repeating over and over. 'Bartlett,' 'California man,' 'missing,' 'island vacation,' and that was just the headlines and keywords. His face slowly drained of color, and he felt sick to his stomach as he looked up.

"What the fuck did you do?" Kevin asked, seething.

Alfie took a deep breath to calm himself from the panic rising in his throat, but his words came out weak and flat, "She was never supposed to know."

"Oh. Okay, well, I guess you're completely absolved, then, huh?" Kevin snapped sarcastically as Alfie jumped to his feet and shoved Kevin backward by the shoulders, not expecting to be met immediately afterward with a hard backhand to the face.

Alfie had never gotten used to physical altercations, and over the last several years, through his relationship with Claire, had learned to take a strike not as a cue to strike back, but to back up, reassess the situation, and now found it strangely almost calming as his mind swam with a growing fear.

"Do you hear that?" Kevin asked, gesturing around them at the empty house.

"Hear what?"

"That... That is the sound of your biggest fuck up causing you to realize your worst fear. Because whatever you did, or didn't do, _she's not here._ Neither is Mel. You are sitting here alone in an empty house... I just never figured that out of anybody, she'd need to run from you."

Alfie turned his attention back to the papers on the table, shaking his head, "That's not what happened, okay? There's a lot you don't know. And I don't know how much she knows, or how she found out, but-"

"No. Either you got somebody killed, or she has reason to think you did. Figure out which one it is. But if she's done with you, you're gonna go. You don't make me get between you two again, not when you got murder involved."

Alfie shut his eyes tight as a wave of guilt hit him stronger than any had in years, "I need to talk to her and explain what happened."

"Forty-eight hours, no contact. That's the rule at the shelter-"

"I screwed up! I didn't hurt her! This is not the same thing!"

Kevin started for the door, "When she's ready to talk to you, she's gonna call you from my phone, and it's getting recorded, you understand that?"

"You can't record this! Talking about it on the phone at all is dangerous. I barely have any deniability at all, now you're setting up evidence that could prove you and Claire as being accessories after the fact. I won't do it."

Kevin paused with his hand on the doorknob, and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. For all his experience otherwise, he had to admit, this was out of his league, "I'll find out how Claire wants to handle this, and then I'll let you know."

"Your mom knows."

Kevin looked up, clearly upset even further by the new information, and walked out muttering curses under his breath slamming the door shut behind him.

* * *

It seemed as though everyone in the house had retreated behind closed doors that evening. There had been no attempts to be social, and without much more warning from Dean, Xander had been the first to grab a few hot pockets from the freezer and shut himself in for the night.

Cas was silently fretting, but as much as it drove Dean nuts, he couldn't blame him for it.

Dean quietly slipped downstairs, taking a beer from the fridge, and made for the porch swing to sit down and wind down, hoping to process his day a little easier without the constant distraction of Cas looking things up online, worrying about a cryptic text from Claire, and debating whether or not to offer to bring some food to Ben's room.

He was surprised to find Ben on the porch swing, his eyes red, looking somewhat haggard.

"Hey, um, did you want some space?" Dean asked quietly for the doorway.

Ben shook his head, "Actually, can I talk to you about something?"

Pulling the door closed, Dean quickly took a seat next to Ben, "Yeah, what's up?"

"She left some stuff out. Discharge papers, I guess. I don't think I was supposed to see it, but she fell asleep, and... The papers, the diagnosis, I don't think she's telling me everything."

"What do you mean?"

"It didn't say that she miscarried. If that's what happened, it would say that, right?" Ben's voice was harder than Dean had expected.

Dean nodded, "Let me guess, the papers say 'spontaneous abortion,' and that word threw you off because you weren't expecting to see it?" At Ben's nod, he continued, "That's the medical term. Abortion being the end of a pregnancy not resulting in birth, and spontaneous meaning it came out of nowhere with no apparent cause... She didn't lie to you... Dick move, though, going through her stuff like that, and if she had, well, none of your business."

"If she had, I only would've been pissed that she didn't talk to me first... I don't get it, though. She's healthy, I'm healthy, why would this just end like that? Just out of nowhere?"

Dean shook his head, "Lots of things. Maybe the DNA didn't mesh up quite right, maybe she had too much stress over an exam, any little detail goes wrong, and the body can say 'Nope, now's not a good time. Try again later.' Not that I'm suggesting you two try again anytime soon. Just don't take this as a sign that you couldn't, or even shouldn't, a few years down the road."

"Still hurts, though."

"Yeah, it does," Dean replied before taking a hit off his beer.

"Did you and Mom ever lose a baby?"

Dean shook his head, "Nope. We were really careful after you, but, um, I did have a girlfriend before her, and she was eleven weeks along, so, that was a bit more complicated."

"So, maybe it's easier this way?"

"I wouldn't go comparing the two. There's no easier or harder, there's just, it happens, and it sucks. It's a painful life experience, not a competition. You work through it as best you can with what you've got."

Inside, Dean could vaguely hear Cas fussing with something in the kitchen when the house phone began to ring. He patted Ben on the knee as he started to get up from the swing, "Probably gonna turn in soon, and while I'm sure you get that she's got some healing to do, since she's still under eighteen, you're on the couch, got it? I don't want any crazy legal questions coming up later."

Ben gave a less than pleased nod, and Dean started back inside.

* * *

Cas had barely put the aspirin bottle away and rinsed his glass when the phone on the counter began to ring. He picked it up quickly, hoping to keep the noise to a minimum, "Hello?"

An older woman's voice replied in a demanding tone, _"I wish to speak to the parents of Benjamin Winchester, do I have the correct number?"_

"You do. This is Cas Novak, and who am I speaking with?"

_"Della Peters. Tell me, Mr Novak, exactly what is your legal relationship to Benjamin?"_

"Well, legally speaking, I'm his stepfather."

_"Good. Then it should fall on your shoulders as the man of the house to beat some sense into the boy, as he's been running around with my niece, Caitlin, and caused all kinds of gossip about her. He's giving a good Christian girl a reputation, and I won't stand for it."_

"Of course," Cas mused, considering a pleasant and lengthy conversation he'd had with Caitlin regarding religion a year before, "That must be very stressful for you."

_"It is. And now, today, she hasn't come home from school on time, she's gone missing, and the police aren't taking me seriously! These young punks these days would actually encourage her to stay out all night, likely at some party near the college. I know what they do at those parties, Mr Novak! I watch it on the news!"_

"I'm sorry, did you say your niece is missing?" Cas asked, quickly losing patience.

_"Yes, and the police won't look for her. They said she's a college student who is about to turn eighteen and made excuses, and they wouldn't listen when I said she was simpleminded. I won't even let her have a radio in her room, you know. But they won't look for her! They said it was only six o'clock, and it was when I called them, and at that point she was already an hour late."_

"That sounds absolutely insufferable. But let me assure you, Caitlin is perfectly safe, she's not at any party. I'd put her on, but she isn't feeling well and went to lie down."

_"She's there? At your home?"_

"Yes. But Ben isn't in the room with her, as we've raised him to be a gentleman. In fact, right now, he's having a conversation on the front porch with my husband."

Cas heard a sputter, and then a stunned silence on the other end of the line as the odious crone finally shut her mouth.

"Although it does strike me as odd that you'd describe a young lady like Caitlin, so well read, and studying for a degree even I'd find daunting as 'simpleminded.' Are you sure we're talking about the same Caitlin? The one who lives with her great aunt, and despite being in her second year of college, is routinely locked in her room at night? That's a fire hazard, you know? I'm a school principal, and I've called CPS for lesser infractions."

He waited patiently for her to speak again as Dean, who'd caught at least the last half of Cas' last statement, entered the room and stood behind him, wrapping his arms around Cas' waist and pressing a soft kiss to the side of his neck as he often did when listening in on a phone call.

_"I hope you realize that the good book says if a man lies with another man, both of them ought to be executed by stoning."_

"Yes, that's in the same set of rules that would have justified my actions had I sold my daughter into slavery. I'm sure you can see why I might disregard them in favor of common sense."

Cas could feel Dean's silent chuckle against his back.

 _"I want Caitlin to come home right away. She is not permitted to spend anymore time with you disgusting people, and you'll keep that nasty boy away-"_ Cas lost track of what Della was saying as Dean gently pulled the phone from Cas' hand.

"Mrs Peters?" Dean asked, bringing the phone to his ear.

_"Who is this?"_

"Dean. I'm Ben's father. Frankly, having gotten to know Caitlin, we're a little concerned about her living situation. Now, she's a smart, and very careful kid, but if she doesn't feel safe going home, and after the conversation I had with her today, well, we won't push the issue. And with her birthday coming up, I don't think the cops will, either. So find somebody else to feed your little power trip," Cas could make out some comment from Della that sounded somewhat like a threat, "Yeah? Good luck finding the place... Uh-huh... Okay, you go pick that book up again, and check out the second book of Samuel, 'cause that thing with David and Jonathan? That wasn't just bromance, not with the way Saul reacted."

Della's incoherent rambling was still coming through the phone as Dean pressed the button to end the call, and set the phone back in its cradle.

"Well?" Cas asked.

"She's calling the cops," Dean said calmly.

"Should we ask her if she wants to go home?"

Dean shook his head, "No need to wake her up. If the cops show up, I'll just tell them about her Sunday routine, and Miss Della is going to have some explaining to do. Are you going to work tomorrow?"

"Of course."

"Okay, I'm gonna shuffle the cars around a bit," Dean said quietly, reaching into Cas' pocket and withdrawing his keys.

The phone began to ring loudly, and Cas quickly flipped a small switch on the side, silencing the ringer, and went to the living room, doing the same to the phone at the bottom of the stairs as Dean started for the driveway.

Ben passed Dean on the porch as he stepped inside, and through the large living room window, Cas could see Dean headed for Xander's truck.

"Ben, I know this is a difficult time, but if there's anything I can do, for either of you...?"

Ben shook his head sadly, "Thanks, Pops... I'm just gonna check on her again, and then Dad says I'm crashing in here."

Cas nodded, "Well, her aunt is very upset, so if anyone comes knocking on the door in the middle of the night, wait for me or your father to answer it."

"Yeah, okay."

After Ben had gone upstairs, Cas wandered over to the window and watched curiously as Dean systematically removed each of the four vehicles from their close proximity to the house before he came walking back up the gravel road to the now empty driveway, and came in the front door.

"Dean?" Cas asked once he'd entered the house.

"Yeah?"

"What did you do with the cars?"

Dean nodded, "I got a plan. Don't worry about it."

* * *

After laying down with Melody for a while to get her to sleep, Claire had dozed off, but it didn't last long. She soon found herself back in the living room, where Kevin had apparently decided to start discussing possible next steps with Margaret on the couch.

"... and he has a point, I mean, different circumstances require a modified reaction."

"Yeah, but whatever you're not telling me is still not cool," Margaret replied quietly.

"Hell yeah, not cool... I should probably go find out how much my mom knows about it," Kevin said, fussing with an odd curl that had come free of Margaret's messy ponytail.

Claire sighed, "Your mom knows?"

"Can you imagine him telling anybody else?" Kevin asked, turning to look at her, "I mean, aside from me, you probably thought I already knew, right?"

Claire shook her head, moving to sit on one of the chairs close by, "I don't what I thought... Which is really stupid, I mean, I've had, what? Three? Four days to think about it?"

"It's not stupid," Margaret reassured her, "It's scary, and it's stressful, and it hit you right out of left field. Whatever kind of shock you're in, it's probably warranted, and necessary, and temporary... I mean, it would be easier if I knew-"

"No! There's um... There's a really good reason to keep as few people in the loop on this as possible. I mean, the legal stuff that could come back on this, is just... I don't think I should even Google it, because search history."

"Dean's brother's a lawyer, but I figured he'd tell Dean, might be more trouble than help," Claire said quietly.

Kevin shook his head, "There's actually a lawyer involved already. Crowley... Okay, anymore details come out, and Margaret loses all deniability, so... No texts, no calls, if someone calls, no recording it, and if they say they're recording, which they'd have to, here, otherwise anything said becomes inadmissible, hang up. We just completely shut up about the whole thing, don't even say anything if you're in the same room with the TV or one of these-" he paused to jiggle his phone, "Because ad-targeting, apparently, recordings happen all the time, and I don't believe those settings actually turn it off, probably just a useless button to bring about a false sense of security-"

Margaret turned slightly to look him in the eyes, "Have you completely lost your mind?"

"Babe, I love my tracking device as much as the next guy, but you know with all the stuff it can do, there's people out there-"

"Make you a hat out of foil?"

"-who can hack it, maybe not who you think. I dunno. But it can happen."

Claire looked back and forth between them for a moment, "Okay, well, there goes any hint of normal... So, having had some time to think about it, what about work?"

Margaret shrugged, "If he hasn't been blowing up your phone by now, he probably won't, so, I'll checck it for you in a minute, if he's behaving, you might as well keep it close for that."

Kevin raised his phone and started typing a text to his mother as Margaret tried to pull it from his hands, "What the hell? You _just said_ no talking about it on phones!"

"I'm just seeing if she's still awake!"

* * *

Dean had opened early, leaving instructions with Ben to try to get Caitlin to eat at normal times, raid the entire kitchen if needed, and to keep an eye on any hint of dizziness, fever, or unusual paleness. Xander had barely noticed the odd arrangement of the household's vehicles, and Cas wasn't about to ask twice. Once the pickup and the crossover had left the gravel road, the curve in the road was effectively turned into a tight bottleneck, with Dean's Impala parked across it, and Ben's Mustang sitting in front of it to one side, nose toward the highway, ready to leave at a moment's notice, just past the gateway to the second driveway.

Periodically, Dean would look up as he worked, but for most of the morning, the road was quiet. Randy had asked why he was so on edge, and whether Claire was coming in, but he'd only said enough to stall the conversation. Blake was staying out from underfoot, and Dean had taken the first opportunity to send Lucas out after parts.

It had gotten very close to his usual time to head home, let Nick out, grab a sandwich, and possibly throw something in the slow-cooker for dinner if needed, but with another look at the road, he spotted a car approaching the bend in the road far too fast for the loose gravel. He dropped the tool in his hand and started for it at a trot, relieved when it stopped short of the parked cars.

A man of roughly his own age threw the driver side door open and got out, his actions choppy and disoriented with rage. He caught sight of Dean coming toward him quickly, and waved his arm at the blocked road, "Are these your cars?! You wanna get them the hell outta my way?!"

"Let's try that again, buster," Dean snapped, matching his tone, "Who the hell are you?"

"I'm looking for my daughter!" the man snapped, barely coming to a standstill.

"Yeah? Who? Caitlin?" Dean asked, still gruffly, staying well out of swinging range.

"Yes, Caitlin! Where the hell is she? You'd better get her out here, now, because I'll turn this whole damn place upside down! I'm not leaving 'til I see her!" yelled the other man, getting a little too close for Dean's comfort. Luckily, he stood half a head taller, and, he hoped, had an advantage, should he become violent.

"Damn straight, you're not!" Dean yelled back, opting to continue to offset the man by matching his upset attitude, not something most people would expect when they've become fired up enough to go into a situation guns blazing, "Your underage child is missing for two days, of course you're pissed! Find her holed up at some compound-looking place outside of town, for all you know she's been kidnapped by some cult full of psychos! But when she called me to come get her, she was at the hospital, and as she is a guest in my house, you're not going near her until you calm the fuck down!"

The stranger fixed Dean with a hard look as he took several unsteady breaths and considered Dean's words, "She was at the hospital?"

"Yeah, she was. She made the choice to come out here, and she'll tell you that," Dean said, his voice softening as the man seemed to be having an easier time paying attention, "Tell you what, talk to me, tell me what you know about what's going on right now, and why she took off, maybe we can sort this out before you go running in screaming your damn fool head off."

"'What I got told," he started a bit more slowly, "Was that she was running around with this Winchester kid, and his parents are two gay men, and they took in some other boy as well, no women in the house at all. She told my aunt a while back that it was over, but apparently, word around town is she's been sneaking out to see him, and who knows who else, or what else she's been doing. Now I'm starting to regret ever sending her out here for school in the first place!"

Dean nodded as he listened, "Yeah, well, you should. That aunt of yours keeps her caged up like a dog."

"What?"

"Yeah. Bars on the windows, lock on the outside of her door? She didn't tell you?"

"No."

Dean shrugged, "So she probably didn't tell you since she decided to stop going to church, her aunt's been letting her out for twenty minutes twice a Sunday before each service to use the bathroom and grab some food, and if she doesn't attend, she's stuck in her room the whole day? Half the time she was sneaking out during the week, it was to go to a class she needed, but your aunt demanded she drop because the professor is an atheist. And it's a good thing she figured a way out of that room, not being able to leave, I mean, what if there was a fire?"

"What about the rest of it?" the man growled, as his eyes gave him away. Dean could see he was starting to come around, "Her being out here is any better? Any safer for her? I don't know you!"

Dean scoffed, "Hey, I get it, I'm a father too, y'know. But fact is, last night, she slept in a room with a lock on the door, but this time it's from the inside, full access to the rest of the house, and if she wanted a ride back to town in the middle of the night, that's fine, any of us would help her out with that. And yeah, it's a house full of guys, but that's just luck of the draw, it's still a family. And for what it's worth, our daughter, Claire, and our son in law, and their baby girl live right over there in that house," Dean pointed to the small two-bedroom beyond a few of the wrecks where Melody's pastel plastic dollhouse sat on the porch by the front door.

"Yeah? And how old is your daughter?" the question held some attitude.

"Twenty-five. She finished college before she got married, and the baby was a while after that... Still a little young, but you can't tell them what to do once they're adults."

The man was obviously still agitated, and Dean would have bet anything he'd been driving all night - he knew Caitlin's parents were at least six hours away - but he seemed far less angry at this point, "And this pregnancy rumor? ...Is it true?"

Kicking himself immediately afterward, but his conscience telling him any damage had already been done, Dean nodded, "It was. She lost it, that's why she was at the hospital."

Caitlin's father clasped a hand over his mouth, stifling a gasp as he collected himself. Frankly, having gotten to know Caitlin, Dean had been quite surprised at the news as well, considering how incredibly reserved she was, and he was sure for her father, it had to be even more of a shock.

"She, um... I think she needed to talk through it on the drive yesterday, so I listened. She said it was really early on, so not a lot of complications to worry about... Just a whole lot of heartache. She's a good kid, and she's blaming herself for this."

"I wanna see her," he ground out, varying emotions warring in his voice.

Dean nodded, "Yeah, okay," and began leading the way past the Impala, as Caitlin's father quickly caught up to walk at his side, "I know you're still pissed, and that's fine, you got every right to be, I just want you to keep in mind, that's your little girl in there, and whatever she did to get where she's at, whatever you believe about it, doesn't matter. What she needs is love and support. Any screaming, any blaming, I will throw you out so fast your head will spin."

'"I know what she needs, don't try to tell me how to raise my kid," he growled, "And she's a minor, so I'm not leaving without her."

"Yeah, well, we'll see. This close to eighteen, and as well as the sheriff likes us, small towns being what they are, and all, they may decide it's not worth their time to force the issue."

They continued on for several yards in sullen silence before he broke the silence, "So, you and your boyfriend-"

"Husband. Cas and I have been married for years."

"Husband, then... What? You just let some teenage girl shack up with your son, under your roof?"

"Hell no!" Dean answered quickly, "She's got Ben's room, and he's on the couch downstairs."

Dean caught a fairly surprised look out of the corner of his eye and quickly realized from his own prejudiced upbringing why the guy might not expect to hear it, "Listen, I've heard some things about your aunt's church, and what they preach... Now, I don't know you, but if they preach the same stuff at your church, you may never have heard this, so let me fill you in - 'Gay parents?' ...We're still parents. We love our kids, we guide them, try like hell to raise them right, to be good people, and we yell at them when they screw up, the same as everybody else. Now, teenagers are gonna do what teenagers do, which is what teenagers have been doing since the beginning of time, but no way in hell is he just moving his underage girlfriend into his room with him like it's no big deal! That is just not happening."

* * *


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: Trigger warning - blunt mention of the miscarriage from prior chapter. Also some scary talk about violentish thoughts.
> 
> I need to go pop a few more [barely] rewritten chapters of the other thing up here soon. Also I have a couple nearly written side pieces for this series in the works, staring at me every time I open my drafts folder. It's awkward. One of them, in particular, has me concerned.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Thanks for keeping me encouraged! Fresh views feels less like yelling into the void, lol! FW)

* * *

The front door swung open wide as Dean stepped aside, having caught sight of Caitlin, slightly worse for wear at the kitchen table, and didn't want to be bowled over by her father. As he predicted, the man went straight for her, only stopping at the edge of the room as Ben came into his view, crossing the kitchen to set a plate down in front of Caitlin, and his free hand on her shoulder.

It was plain to see that the man breathed his deep relief at finding his daughter apparently safe and sound, "Caitlin, what are you doing here? You scared the hell out of us."

"Sorry," Caitlin mumbled with a vague grumble as Ben sank to the chair closest to her, and she reached for his hand.

Caitlin's father shifted awkwardly, eyeing Ben as Dean came into the room past him, "Um, would you fellas give us a minute? I'd like to talk to my daughter."

"Sure," Dean said, starting to turn around.

"No, sir," Ben replied rather quickly.

Surprised, Dean faced his son and found a look in his eyes he didn't like. He knew that look, he'd seen it on Sam's face often enough, and likely wore the same look himself whenever questioning an authority figure. It was simultaniously steadfast and resolute while hiding some degree of fear.

"And why the hell not?" the man asked, as Dean had been about to remind Ben to choose his battles.

Ben shrugged, his arm obviously constrained, "Because at this rate, I'd have to saw off my hand, so, no. I'm staying right here. But she'd probably let go if you want me to fix you a sandwich. Do you want one?"

Dean held his breath, subconsciously counting heartbeats as the man cast a hard look at Ben, seemingly attempting to measure his worth in that one brief interchange. And Ben didn't break eye contact until he moved again, taking a seat at the table while giving a carefully measured nod, "Okay... Yeah, I think I would. Thank you."

Slipping into the living room as Ben went back to the counter where he'd left several items out, Dean took a seat in one of the armchairs with his back to the archway, close enough to listen in. He could tell from the squeak of the chair when Ben had returned to the table.

"So, you're Ben, huh?"

"Yes, sir."

"You can drop the 'sir' crap, you're not fooling anybody."

"Force of habit, sir. My dad was in the military for a while before I was born."

"You ever been arrested, Ben?"

"No."

"You smoke?"

"No."

"Drugs?"

"No."

"Are you in school?"

"Yes."

"For what?"

"I'm going to be a veterinarian," Ben answered.

The man huffed, "I've heard things about you, kid."

"Then I hope you heard them from a reliable source," Ben replied a little too dismissively.

"I heard that you robbed a gas station near Bridgeway last summer, and some punk rock guy had to bail you out of jail."

"Sorry to disappoint you, but no. My uncle lives in Bridgeway, I broke down near there when I was out there babysitting my cousins, and some slightly metal rock guy picked me up because he was coming home from a tour and happened to stop at the same spot. He used to give me guitar lessons in exchange for roadie help on local gigs when he was still working at my dad's car repair shop."

The conversation at the table went silent, but Dean could easily predict the volumes of tense looks layering over the table.

"Caitlin, what's going on at Aunt Della's house? ...Is she really locking you in?"

"Yes," she replied in barely a disinterested whisper.

"Why didn't you tell us?"

"I did. I told Mom the first week! I told her about the lock, and how Aunt Della pulled my hair for mouthing off when I didn't say anything, and then I told her a month later when Aunt Della slapped me. Every time she said 'this is the safest way for you, you can't live in a dorm, it's too dangerous, and you just have to stay out of her way.' So why keep trying? And anyway, I guess Mom said something to her after the slap, and then she started monitoring my phone calls. If I said anything about her at all, she'd call it rude, and threaten to kick me out, and that would ruin everything, so I shut up. Then everything just got worse and worse, until I had to give her my exact class schedule and she'd try to say I had to be home, like, two minutes and thirty-five seconds after each class... Anyway, it doesn't matter, I'm not going back."

"So this is your way of rebelling?" he asked, "Sneaking around with this kid? Taking off out of nowhere to spend time with complete strangers?"

"No, that's just normal human interaction with people who aren't horrible beasts, and treat me like a person instead of an inconvenience."

"How? ...If she locked you in, how were you getting out?" Dean heard Caitlin chuckle slightly, and her father had clearly turned to face the living room, calling to him, "How often has she been coming over here?"

Dean turned in his seat, "Oh, uh, a few times a week, when she can. She's really strict about her schoolwork. Sometimes she gets swamped and we don't see her for a couple of weeks. Not sure that goes the same for Ben, though."

The man shook his head as he turned back to Caitlin, "It's like I don't even know who you are, anymore."

"Because your control-freak aunt decided to cut me off from the world, and that includes you. But you and mom did nothing to help me. You wanted me to tough it out, so I did. But I'm not some programmable robot, I can't live like that. So I found a workaround, a glitch in her system, and I exploited it. And I'm not about to say how, just in case somehow she manages to force me back into that room."

He nodded, "Okay... I can see this obviously hasn't been a good experience for you, this has gotten way out of hand... Nobody is going to make you go back over there, I'll have her pack up your things, and we'll get you transferred somewhere closer to home-"

"No. I'm not going," Caitlin groused in what was likely the least respectful tone any of them had ever heard from her.

"You are having a very hard time right now, honey, I know, but a couple of days at home to get back to normal and we can talk about this-"

"I'm staying, and I'm going to graduate, and you can kiss my ass. Because my baby died, okay? I can't deal with this right now, there's no argument you can make to change my mind, so save your breath."

Dean hadn't bothered to turn away again after being addressed and now watched as the guy hung his head. Caitlin's emotions since leaving the hospital had varied, but most echoed of pain and slowly slipping into a deep numbness.

"Your momma's gonna take this really hard. I'll tell her if you want me to, but I think it'll be better to hear it from you... If you don't want to go home, and I don't expect you to go back to Della's, then what happens? Where are you going to live while you finish school?"

Caitlin shrugged, and Dean noticed Ben appeared to be texting under the table. With an absent pause, Ben looked up, "I, um... I kind of bought a house. If it's still in okay shape, she could move in today."

"What does that mean, 'kind of?' And where the hell did you get enough for a down payment?" Dean sputtered in confusion.

Ben, still looking a bit astonished, shrugged, "Buyer's market? Helps if you know who to talk to, I guess..."

Caitlin shot him a confused look, and he passed her his phone. She scrolled for a minute, then looked up again as she passed it back, and turned her attention to her father, "Well, there you go. Aren't you always saying 'the Lord will provide?'"

"I didn't count on the Lord having you living in sin with your boyfriend," her father groused.

Ben covered a snort by clearing his throat, "All I said was that I bought it, and she could live there. I didn't say I was living there."

Dean got up and went into the kitchen, curious, and gestured for a turn at this ever-so-intriguing evidence on Ben's phone as Caitlin's father looked back and forth between the two teens, settling on Caitlin, "I suppose this is one of those spots where I just have to roll with the punches if I'm gonna tag along for the ride, huh? ...This is what you want? You trust this guy? I mean, if you two break up, or the wind changes directions, this looks like the worst possible way to arrange things."

"Ben's still friends with a couple of his ex's, and I've even seen him be nice to the one that's a raging lunatic. I'll be fine."

Ben scrolled up a bit in a conversation with Alfie and then passed Dean the phone. Ben had asked if the small house and barn on the end of the old ranch that angled toward town was still in livable condition and empty, and Alfie had responded, asking why. He noted the date had been several months ago, as the two usually spoke face to face, and most of the texts following had been about the house and barn. Ben had been considering it as an optimal spot for an eventual veterinary practice, especially if serving more rural areas and larger animals, hence the barn. Today's texts, however, had been far more to the point, and he'd asked how much.

'Take it,' Alfie had responded, followed by a second text, 'Call it an early grad gift from us'

Ben had objected, requiring a price, and stating that he had a 'personal situation going on.' Alfie had sent back a message with an eye-rolling emoji and the words, '5 cents. bring cash.'

Dean scratched at the stubble on his cheek thoughtfully, and passed the phone back to Ben, "That kid's gonna lose a fortune in real estate."

Ben reached for Caitlin's hand again, having put away his phone, "Listen, you need your stuff, and since your dad's here, maybe it's the best time to get your stuff moved, or at least out of your aunt's house. If you're okay here, I'll go get the keys and check this place out, make sure the roof's not caving in."

Caitlin nodded, and Ben started to rise from his chair when her father stopped him, "Hang on there just a minute, young man."

Ben sat back down immediately, "Yeah?"

"Why? I mean, what do you get out of this, aside from the painfully obvious that we aren't going to get into right now with a lady in the room?" at Ben's look of confusion, he continued, "Nobody in the world is that selfless."

Ben looked half panicked and seemed to be searching for the right words when he suddenly blurted out, "Do you have any idea how hard she's worked to stay in college? I mean, just, she's got these course loads that are completely insane, and she's doing it anyway. And she's a hundred percent dedicated to getting her degree, she is just... I don't know, but she's going succeed in this, and, yeah, I just, I want that for her, so I might as well help if I can, but otherwise, all you can do is stay out of her way."

"And how would that have worked, if she'd had the baby?" her father asked bluntly.

Ben shrugged, "I guess I would have had to transfer to some online school, since my goals are a little less demanding than what she's got going on, and put in more shifts at work whenever possible."

He crossed his arms, "Well, you're lucky I can read between the lines, boy, because you still haven't come out and said it, not directly."

"Said what?" Ben asked.

Dean reached over from where he had moved to stand with his back to the corner of the fridge and gave the back of Ben's head a hard flick.

"Ouch! What?"

Dean scoffed, "All the crap Cas and I put Alfie through, and you're still this dense about what he's asking you?"

A look of realization crossed Ben's face slowly, and he turned back to face the table, "Kinda thought that was a given, but, yeah, I love her. And I have a ton of respect for her, she's just, y'know, awesome."

"I do know that, yes. And you realize she's gonna make a lot more than you, and have a far more demanding career, don't you?" he asked.

Ben glanced at Caitlin, "She's a genius who's gonna make space travel practical, while I'm planning on a job where I'm likely to wind up doling out dog laxatives, snipping cats and sticking my whole arm up a cow's ass, so, that's no surprise there. But I'd be able to get work wherever her career takes her, so, I mean, we're really young, but if this works out how we want it to..."

"You've already talked about it, then?"

"Yeah, we have," Caitlin answered him, "And we both think we're way too young for that kind of commitment."

"Well, it's good to know you're both on the same page, and using your brains... I suppose I can't stop you, but, you want me to agree to this, to you staying here, under his roof, I want you to promise me that you're living there by yourself until after your birthday. After that, it's none of my business, but you're not eighteen yet."

Caitlin her father a rather condescending look, "Fine."

Before he could turn his critical gaze on Ben, Ben spoke up, "Um, for my side of that, yeah, promise."

* * *

After sleeping in for several hours, likely from the constant interruption of Melody's restless legs, Claire awoke to the sound of her phone going off, and answered it without checking the number.

"Hey, uh, we got a weird question, here, and Dean took off," Randy's voice came through in her ear, "This lady wants to know if we can sandblast some castiron cookware for her? I guess her husband was trying to help around the house and washed it wrong, and she says all she needs is the rust knocked off of it. Lucas says he can do it."

"Uh, yeah," Claire answered, sitting up, "He sandblasted some old antique stuff for his boyfriend's mom while you were out last year, stuff that was her grandma's. If he screws it up, tell him he's reimbursing her, charge her ten bucks plus whatever he thinks is fair for labor."

"Okay. You coming in today?"

"No, probably not."

She could practically hear him nod on the other end of the line, "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay for now, I guess."

She heard the chair squeak in the echoing little room as he turned to look down the hallway over his shoulder, "Look, you know we gossip around here more than chicks in a makeup pow-wow around a bathroom sink, so it's pretty clear you've got something going on that you don't want your folks to know about. And that means it's Alfie. So, you know, if he did something, and you're trying to protect him, maybe just take a minute and ask yourself if he deserves whatever you're trying to protect him from. Because Dean and Cas would only get pissed at him for good reason, okay?"

Claire rubbed at one eye sleepily, "You assholes need to mind your own goddamn business, but I'll take it into consideration."

"Sure... And one more thing, whatever's going on with you, I don't think your folks have noticed. Something big is going on over there that has them distracted. All four cars were blocking the road just past your driveway when I got in to open this morning, and then a little while ago, some guy shows up, screaming, never seen him before, and Dean took him over to their place for a bit, then this guy and Ben walked over to your place and left in the guy's car. Pretty sure Dean's still at the house."

"Hang on," Claire said, switching the phone to speaker, and checking her messages. Nothing, "Okay, nobody's told me anything. Keep doing what you're doing, whatever it is, don't call Dean unless it's a major emergency, I can handle pretty much anything on the phone. I'm sure there's a good reason for whatever's going on."

* * *

Nathan, as they'd finally come to an introduction, had thanked Dean for being so accommodating before leaving with Ben to take a look at the ranch house. It was a short drive, but Ben was sure that due to the circumstances, it was going to take a while. The first half mile was silent.

"I don't like you," Nathan said bluntly, although there was no evidence of anger in the words, "But I'm willing to admit that might just be the circumstances I've met you under... Looks like you're treating my daughter right, and if you keep that up for long enough, we might just be able to get past that."

Ben swallowed, finding his throat dry, "Yes, sir."

"Now, I'm sure you've got your own feelings to deal with, come to terms with, over the miscarriage, it's regretable, but I'm sure you can guess that I'm not too happy about the fact that my seventeen-year-old daughter was pregnant in the first place."

Ben nodded, wondering if taking him up on the offer to take the same car, his car, had been a good idea, and whether or not the guy had any knowledge of good places to dump a body.

"Caitlin told me a while back, before your temporary, or possibly fake break-up, that when it comes to spiritual matters, you talk to a rabbi... Are you Jewish?"

"Not officially... I guess my mom was, partly, and I thought about it, y'know, actually- well, I'm not sure if that's converting or not... Rabbi Jake's there for anybody, though, you don't have to stop eating bacon to talk about God and stuff with him."

Nathan nodded, "Okay... I can accept that. I would've been happier with her finding somebody who's a little deeper in the faith, but she's got a mind of her own, and it's been pretty clear for a few years now, even if she hasn't said so, that she questions it, same as she questions everything else. But I suppose that's got you two equally yoked."

Ben, having misconstrued his words, quickly considered whether his statement having something to do with eggs may have alluded to his mention of bacon, but before he could come up with a reply, Nathan continued.

"You mentioned your mother. Does she live around here?"

"No, she died when I was eight. Cancer. Then my Dad's adoptive father passed, left him the shop, and we moved out here."

"And then he met your stepfather?"

"Well, we don't really pay any attention to the whole 'step' thing. I just call him Pops. So does my brother, who was just a friend of mine from school, but his family had some issues, and his mom set it up so Dad and Pops could adopt him when she couldn't keep him," Ben explained, "I'm sorry, this is going to drive me crazy if I don't ask, but, well, it seems like your aunt, Della, would've told me I'm going to hell, like, five times by now, so, are you just saving it up, or how does this work?"

Nathan shook his head, "I don't go to her church. And, actually, after she disowned her own kid, and everyone around her just encouraged her to dig in her heels, well, I found a new church. I grew as a person. And honestly, to tell somebody that they're going to hell means you're claiming to know what God thinks, even more than God does, so how is that not a sin in itself? ...No, hell, I think that's reserved for people who actually go out of their way to hurt people. I believe in a forgiving God, who defaults back to love, as often as possible."

Ben's voice was a bit more strained than he expected when he finally managed the words, "Seems like a nice thing to believe in."

"I'd like to meet the rest of your family before I head home. My wife's going to have a lot of questions."

* * *

"That's all you remember?" Kevin asked quietly, slumped in the kitchen chair, having listened to his mother rattle off the conversation that had occured at the hospital seven years before, "No other details?"

"You shouldn't have gotten into this. Claire should have asked him directly, and if I'm being completely honest, he should've lied to her," Linda stated flatly.

"Lied to her?" Kevin scoffed, "Lying has no place in a healthy relationship!"

Linda pursed her lips and swung her gaze around the kitchen, "We protect the ones we love. If he lied, and this whole thing came to light later, he'd be the only one in danger, legally. And now that you've gone and gotten yourself involved, you'd better not tell Margaret. Somebody has to stay out of jail, and at this rate it's going to be her raising both of the kids while the rest of us are serving time."

"Yeah, well, she knows there's a thing that she's not supposed to know, because I'm not about to lie to her."

"So, now what? Are you going to give Claire more incriminating details and send her home to work this out between the two of them?" Linda asked.

"No... I'm going to stick to the plan, and see what she wants to do."

"You have a family to think about."

"They're part of my family."

"You can't put them ahead of Margaret and Mike, though. That's not-"

"Mom, I love you, but stop. This whole thing is more complicated than you know."

Linda raised her eyebrows, "There's a dead body at the bottom of the deepest ocean, that officials are still looking for, and you're telling me this is complicated? Good thing you're here to tell me these things."

A soft tap came at the front door before it quietly opened as Claire let herself in. Kevin called out to her, and she soon made her way into the kitchen. Worry and sleepless nights were taking an obvious toll on her well-being, leaving her hair stringy and her shoulders drooped, to say nothing of the shadows below her eyes.

"He should be here soon," Kevin told her, "Do you want me to stay in the room with you?"

Linda shook her head, "Please! He's not violent, and he's not about to hurt her. They can sort this out themselves."

"Mom, seriously, pull your head out of your ass. He told her he got somebody killed, she's scared, and if she's likely to mishear or forget things, or, well, any reason, she should have a third person there if she wants. So unless you want to call Cas to come sit in, and add to an already strained situation, give it a freaking rest!" Kevin sat back heavily in his chair with a huff.

"I'm sorry," Claire said softly.

Kevin raised a hand and pointed to her, "See? ...Abusive situation, even if he's not causing it directly, indicated by her exhibiting a typical victim behavior response."

"I'm standing right here, jerkwad."

"Thankfully, as evidenced by her leathery and callous exterior, she'll pull through this just fine."

Claire gave a less than ladylike snort as Kevin, who was certain he'd heard a car door, got to his feet.

"Okay, upstairs," Kevin said softly, "How are you feeling about this?"

"I think I got it covered... Just don't come running in right away if I start yelling at him," she replied.

Kevin could hear anxious footsteps on the porch as he gave her a quick squeeze and gestured upstairs, waiting until he'd heard her reach his old bedroom before opening the front door.

Despite being unaware of Claire's knowledge of the event for a majority of the time she'd been carrying the burden, it was plain to see the last twenty four hours had been hell for him. Kevin gave him a hard, disapproving look and let him in, "She's upstairs."

Alfie's face seemed to fall further, if it were possible.

"What?" Kevin asked, able read his friend like an open book.

"It's just, she um... She has an easier time not freaking out if the peson she's stressed about is already in the room and doesn't come in after her... And if she's upstairs, she's probably in a bedroom, which makes it worse."

"She didn't say anything about that being a problem."

"Yeah, well, she hasn't had to think about it for years, because I'm careful about it," Alfie admitted.

"So you can't just walk in there like an adult? You have to make this complicated?"

"I am only trying to take care of her," Alfie said quietly, his voice strained, "Please, just go upstairs and pull her out of there for two seconds so I can get in there and sit down so she's even just a little bit more okay with this?"

Kevin gave him a hint of a glare before shaking his head, considering quickly that already being seated in a room before someone came in was normally to take a dominant position on any exchange, then began to lead the way upstairs, "If it was anybody else, I'd think you were just a micromanaging, power-tripping douchebag... Gimme your phone."

Complying, Alfie kept his distance as Kevin reached the doorway, leaning in and asking Claire to come out for a moment, gently tugging her close to the linen closet as Alfie slipped inside.

"Still okay?" he asked, searching her face in worry.

"I'm fine," she lied.

Kevin nodded, gave her a quick pat on the back, and started for the stairs, "Give 'im hell."

Alfie watched her face carefully as she entered the room, the stress in her eyes that he'd ignored for days twisted the knife in his heart almost as much as watching her close the door only most of the way shut.

He had taken a seat on the side of the bed, if only to fill that space, remembering where she'd pushed him in demonstration of her attack years before. Claire spun the nearby desk chair around to face him and sat down, watching him with an anger he knew only revealed itself when she was at the end of her patience.

After several seconds of her chilling gaze, he spoke, the words sticking in his throat, yet tumbling out all at once in a hushed whisper, "I guess it's my fault you look like you haven't slept in days, and I'm sorry, because I should have seen that, and if you want me out, I'll go."

"You said you let Crowley kill him."

"I have no idea what I said-"

"You were drunk and falling asleep, I know you don't know what you said, that's why I'm telling you," her voice was harsh in his ears, "You said you let Crowley kill 'that guy,' and then when I asked who, you said 'Bartlett.' I only know one person with that name, and he went missing... You sounded completely comfortable with it, too, like he offered to do it, and you took him up on it."

Alfie shook his head, "That's not what happened."

"What did happen, then?"

"It was a complete surprise, he told me while it was happening, I had no way to stop it."

"You said you let him do it."

"What was I supposed to do?" Alfie asked, having found his voice, "Do you think he would have stopped if I asked him to? Nobody lets, or makes Crowley do anything, he just does it, and he already had the guy, got the name out of me, sends this text message, and then he tells me, after they threw the guy off the boat, strapped to an anchor. It was done. No waiting, no chance at stopping it. I don't even have a clue who he had do it for him, I only know he wasn't there doing it himself. It only happened because I trusted him, and thought we were having a normal conversation, so, yes, it's my fault. Just a tiny bit, but still, part of this is on me. I've been trying to come to grips with that for years."

The longer he spoke, the more confident he grew, but he realized as he did that Claire was growing angrier with each word that passed his lips. A scowl developed on her beautiful face, and she was shaking her head by the time he finished. He went silent, waiting, hoping, desperate for some sort of outburst, some retaliation to strike him, some divine punishment to come to fruition and lead him to absolution so he could finally find peace and let go of the guilt that had plagued him like a dark scar in his mind since he'd come home that evening, certain he deserved to die for his part in it.

"I can't believe you hid this from me."

"I couldn't tell you."

"Why not?"

"Because if I'm a murderer, ...And, god, Claire, I _feel_ like a murderer... you could never stay with me. You can't love somebody who'd be a part of this."

"Were you? Because you said you screwed up, that you didn't have a choice!"

Alfie bowed his head, staring at his hands.

"You said you had no way to stop it, that he used you, and it sounds like he was going to do it anyway, so, how the hell is this your fault?" Claire demanded before raising her voice, "Fucking look at me when I talk to you, goddammit!"

Alfie raised his eyes to hers, but didn't answer.

"If you could, if somehow you could go back and stop it from happening, would you?" she asked, stress taking her nearly to the verge of tears.

"I would."

"Don't lie to me."

Alfie nodded, definite in his answer, "I would, I swear... But only so I could do it myself."

Claire froze in horror, staring at him.

"Sometimes," he said softly, "I think about all that dark saltwater closing around him, and he's sinking into it, it's crushing him, and I just imagine that was every tear he ever made you cry, and then finally, justice."

"That's sick," Claire responded with a choked whisper.

Alfie nodded again, and this time there was a hint of regret, "I know... I know that. That's why I try so hard to bury it. But it's just thoughts. Thoughts and one small screw up, that might not even count if I didn't want it to count so badly, to have had some kind of role to play in his death... But after years of thinking about it, carrying that weight around, I realize, I can't let go, because I wanted him tortured and killed from the minute I knew... Just, cause him to scream and cry and beg for mercy... If I thought I could do that, though, if I thought I was capable of it, I would have left you. Let you find somebody else, somebody good. But I think I would chicken out, so I figured you wouldn't be in any danger from me."

"And Mel?"

Alfie swallowed hard, "If somebody hurt Mel the way he hurt you, I wouldn't let them die, I'd keep them alive in a room somewher-"

"I meant is she safe, you sick asshole!" Claire snapped.

Alfie slipped off the bed to his knees in front of her as angry tears began to roll down her face. Very gingerly, he wiped them away with his thumbs, and cupped the sides of her face in his hands, "I love you, and if this is it for you, I'll understand, but no matter what you decide to change, or how far away you decide I need to be, you and Mel are going to continue to be my only priority... So... What do you need from me?"

Claire shook her head, "Time and space."

"How long?"

"I don't know."

"How far?"

Claire shrugged, "Not at home."

Alfie threaded his arms between her and the back of the chair, around her waist and shoulders, pulling her close despite her giving an initial resistance, embracing her tightly, feeling each sob as she reluctantly put her head down on his shoulder, accepting his affection from habit, if nothing else.

"I knew if this ever came out it was going to screw everything up," he whispered, "I'm not going to make it harder on you by sticking around. I'll keep my phone on, any time you want to call, I'll pick up, I swear, and I won't come back to town until you tell me to, so you won't have to even think about running into me on accident... I also won't be any further than an hour's flight away. I don't know what you want to tell Melody... Just tell her I love her, and that I'll be back as soon as I can."

Claire nodded weakly, and he stood. In her numbness, she wasn't sure how quickly it had happened, but somewhere between five seconds and five minutes passed, and during that silent time, he left.

* * *


	26. Chapter 26

* * *

Ben paced quietly in the driveway as Nathan went inside to speak to Della alone, waiting for his brother to pick up his call.

"C'mon, c'mon... Fricken answer it already," he muttered. He spotted an elderly woman eyeing him from a nearby house with a judgemental glare, and turned around.

"Finally remembered I exist? Nice," Xander groused as he picked up.

"Did I do something to piss you off? I've been busy."

Xander's tone was less than pleased, but didn't seem completely irreparable, "Did you move my truck?"

"Dad moved your truck. He moved all the cars. Then Caitlin's dad showed up to take her home, I bought her a house, and we're at the old bat's place getting her stuff. We got boxes, but I dunno if it's all gonna fit in his car. Can you come help?"

"Wait, you... Her dad is there?" Xander asked, "And you bou- Oh my God! It's a shotgun wedding! Awesome!"

"It's not-!" Ben looked around anxiously, then lowered his voice, "That's not happening, shut up!"

"Sure as hell looks like it. So, what happened? You knocked her up?"

"Shut it, shit-for-brains. Where are you right now?"

In the background, he was sure he heard a girl speaking to some other person, "Hanging out."

"At home?"

"No."

"God... Okay, yes. I did. But she's not still, something went wrong."

"What went wrong?"

"I don't know, nobody knows this crap, it just didn't work for some reason, she was, and then she wasn't, okay?"

"So, like, she went for a run and it shook loose?"

Ben gritted his teeth, "I don't know what's wrong with you, but slap some duct tape over that offensive hole in your face and get you and your truck over here, now," he rattled off the address.

"Ben, hey, wait. I guess that was a shitty thing to say, I'm sorry."

"Don't tell anybody else, too many people already know."

"Yeah, okay... Hang on..." Ben heard a door close on Xander's end of the conversation, "Okay, I'm clear. So, like, what happened? There was gonna be a baby and it died?"

"Pretty much. Apparently, it happens a lot. Like, I dunno, most women who have had kids, or tried to, have at least a couple. I didn't know this was that common."

"And her dad? How's that going?"

Ben sighed, "He heard I robbed a gas station."

"When did you do that?"

"I didn't. I-"

"Ben?" he turned around to find Nathan walking toward him from the door and nodded.

"I gotta go, texting you the address," Ben said quickly, ending the call. He sent the text as he slowly took a few steps closer to the door, and answered Nathan as politely as he could, "Yeah? Sorry, that was my brother, I asked him to bring his truck."

Nathan nodded and cast a less-than-pleased look back toward the house, "Well, I'd certainly appreciate that, there's a bit more than I thought there would be... Listen, Ben, I, uh... I suppose, growing up with two fathers, you've probably got a thick skin. Am I right?"

"Middle school, when everybody knows your dad is in a same-sex relationship with the principal, yeah. High school wasn't much better."

"I hate to ask you, knowing the sort of things she's going to say, but-"

"Oh, no. It's fine. I know she's not speaking for you, and, like, she grew up in a different time, and all. I'll try to keep my mouth shut, too."

"Sounds like you're a lot more tolerant than she is. That's good," Nathan answered, heading back toward the door as Ben followed after him, "I was, um... I wanted a few words with her about the lock and the window bars, privately, I mean. It may be her house, her rules, but this was unreasonable. Do you know where all her things are?"

"No. I've never been in her room, just the living room once, dropping off a book she left in my car."

Nathan nodded with an uncomfortable look, and led the way inside, "I meant to ask earlier, I know you're in school, but what do you do for work?"

"Part-time desk stuff at a vet clinic, learning the small stuff, you know, and sometimes I do a few shifts at the shop, fixing cars," Ben answered.

"The one on the corner?"

"Yeah. My dad owns it, and my sister works there, too."

"Is that why your sister lives in that house in the junkyard?"

"Well, Claire's been working at the shop since she was sixteen, she finished up her business major so she could run it better, but she likes fixing cars. It's gotten to the point where Dad can't run it without her."

"And do you both have the same mother?"

"No, she's actually Pops' kid. Well, she was to start with, Dad adopted her."

Having passed a living room with dusty knickknacks crammed into every available space and the elderly woman who sat scowling, staring at him, Ben reached an open doorway with a large lock still hanging open in the metal fastening loop on the door frame.

Nathan caught the look on Ben's face, "I know. I have no idea how Della can even lift it that high. She said it was recent, though, before that it was just the knob."

Ben looked down at the locking doorknob that had been installed backward, likely intentionally, with the keyed side turned in toward the room.

"Yeah, um, I knew about that... If you've got a pocket knife, there's a set of lockpicks down the floor vent..." At Nathan's questioning look, Ben shrugged, "And they have my dad's initials on them. I don't think he knows, but if he does, he hasn't said anything. They were a gift from the guy that had the shop, he'll want them back."

Nathan pulled a small folded knife from his pocket, passing it to Ben, and turned his attention back to one of the flattened moving boxes he'd picked up. He stretched a length of tape across the bottom flaps before flipping the box upright and opened the closet door, "And I suppose she just learned how to use them all on her own?"

Ben crouched awkwardly to remove the floor vent, "I don't really see any need to apologize for that, y'know, considering..."

"No. No, 'considering,' her mother and I certainly weren't doing her any favors, it's good she had help where she could get it. She's smart," Nathan said, moving an armload of clothes from the closet bar straight into the box, hangers and all, and began collecting her shoes from the closet floor, "It does make me worry, though, if she were desperate, if there's any chance she'd manipulate someone if she felt that she had to. I haven't been around her much lately, and I gotta say, it's not much of a stretch of the imagination."

"You don't have to be as smart as Caitlin to see she could have ditched this place long before this. She stayed because she could get out when she needed to, and that let her focus on school instead of surviving." Ben leaned down, feeling blindly until a familiar handle slid into his hand.

"Are you tearing up my floor?!" a shrill voice shrieked from the doorway, making Ben jump.

Finding no reason to appease the woman, a fairly impartial witness available, and blood now welling up from a scratch on the back of his hand, Ben turned to her as he reached for the grate, "No, ma'am, just taking back my lockpicks. These prisoners these days, you'll find all kind of contraband in their cells. Might want to cut open the mattress, and check that she wasn't making wine in the toilet."

"Well!" the woman was shortly at a loss for words and turned to Nathan, "There you have it. That's the moron who managed to get your daughter pregnant!"

"I spoke to Caitlin myself, she's not pregnant," Nathan argued, "You leave him alone, he's only here to help me. One more word and I'll have a long talk with your minister about whether you're fit to live on your own anymore."

"I hope you're taking her back home. She needs more discipline than I have to give her. She's going to end up turning tricks in a back alley someplace!"

"If that was her career plan, she'd be doing it already instead of wasting her time studying," Ben interjected.

Della pointed a sharp looking claw in his direction, and snapped, "You will not insult me in my own home!"

Finished with the screws, Ben stood up. He knew his frame wasn't quite as imposing as Xander's or Dean's, but it dwarfed her easily, "Nobody has. They don't have to. The words coming out of your mouth do the job for us."

With an intense look of repressed rage, Della reached for the edge of the door as she turned to leave the room, pulling it shut before having it yanked roughly from her hand. She wheeled around to point an accusing finger, only to find it was Nathan that had kept her from closing it.

* * *

"Are you all cried out?" Margaret asked softly.

"I think so," Claire replied, "Seems like I'm down to just being pissed and frustrated."

"Makeover?"

"Nah."

"Want to ditch the kids with Kevin and hit the town?"

Claire shook her head.

Margaret shifted slightly on the couch, "Are you sure you don't want to stay here? Or go to the shelter for a few days? I'm just worried about you getting home and either he's there, or he shows up."

"He won't. He'll do anything not to screw this up. And leaving town was his idea."

Margaret seemed to have yet another question, but before she could ask, Claire's phone chirped. Margaret gave a snort, "Here we go..."

"No, it's my dad," Claire said quietly, opening the text, "Apparently there's a family dinner tonight because Ben's girlfriend's dad is in town, and he wants to meet everybody... 'Alfie's not in town... Me and Mel... Maybe.' Better not be in town."

Claire jumped slightly as her phone began to ring almost the moment she'd sent the message. She picked up quickly, "Hey. What's up?"

" _If Alfie's out of town, who gave Ben the keys?_ "

"What keys?"

" _To the ranch property that's not being used. I know the land is slated for a preservation, but that was likely to tie it up in red tape until it was decided how best to use it, meanwhile Ben says he-_ "

"Ben asked about it months ago. Alfie was gonna give it to him anyway, the location is perfect for what he was talking about using it for."

" _I don't mean to pry, and if either of you are busy, that's fine, of course, I'm just concerned. _"__

"Yeah," Claire went quiet, "Well, I don't want to talk about this right now, and definitely not on the phone."

Cas seemed to think it over briefly, " _I can leave work early,_ " he offered.

* * *

Ben had felt awkward as Nathan stepped out, asking him to pack up the dresser, likely meaning undergarments, but given the circumstances, he supposed he was the best option for it. He could hear an argument taking place regarding makeup and jewelry, and Della's voice clearly using the word 'whoring' at least twice.

Finally, the doorbell rang, and he could make out Xander's voice. Starting for the driveway with the newly packed box, he found Xander walking toward him as Nathan was starting to bring up the rear, slowly, still exchanging words with Della, "I've had enough. You're going to give her back the jewelry. That was my mothers, and you had no right to take it."

"I'll take it as payment-!"

"We were already paying you! This wasn't just so she'd have a place to live, and I know it was going into your QVC habit, but we were trying to help you out too, and all you did was treat her like-"

"I will take it as payment for bringing these hoodlums into my house!" Della argued from her chair, "Rummaging and stealing from me when you aren't looking!"

"Nobody wants your granny-panties and giant bat-wing arm tape, lady," Xander answered in a mouthy tone.

"You. You are the worst of all, boy," she growled, pointing again. Ben waited to hear how Xander could possibly be worse than himself knocking up her great-niece, because he personally couldn't think of anything to top it.

Instead, as Xander had made a wide gesture with his arms to invite her to continue, she turned to Nathan.

"These boys, their whole family, they are _stained_ with the sins of that household. That one," she pointed to Ben, who'd mostly been quiet, "Seems to know better than to show it, but clearly, the entire lot of them, and now, Caitlin, too, they're all stained, and unashamed of it."

The room went silent as Nathan's face was expressionless, and Ben wished he had some hint what the man was thinking. Unfortunately, it was then that Xander spoke again.

"Only thing stained around here is those granny-panties."

* * *

Claire had left at a reasonable time, but wound up stopping at the grocery store on her way home, and as she'd expected, Cas was sitting on the front porch when she pulled up. She collected Melody from the back seat, and two grocery bags, setting Melody down once she was inside the yard. She started for the door, sorting her keys as she went up the steps, and Melody, left to her own devices, went straight to the large turtle-shaped sandbox in clear view of the porch, shifting the lid aside, but not quite off to climb in.

"Claire-"

"Nope. Not yet. Just watch her for a minute," Claire answered, gruffly going about her business.

Cas turned his attention to the front yard, where Melody, a sand toy in her hand, was pointing happily at the greenery around the bottom of the porch.

"Issa fnake!" she said with a wide grin, "Hi, fnake!"

Cas tried to sort out what she might have been talking about, as several of her more complicated words still found sounds jumbled, and stood to get a look at where she was pointing. He didn't have to move far, however, because a long dark cylinder three times the thickness of a garden hose slithered out from below the porch, taking up residence below the half-raised lid of the sandbox.

Almost before he knew it, he was off the porch, had pulled Melody away by lifting her from the sandbox by one arm, and was back on the porch as she began screaming at him for taking her away from her toys.

The door, still cracked, swung open as Melody squirmed, attempting and nearly succeeding in getting to the floor.

"What the hell?" Claire asked as Cas shifted his hold, resulting in the toddler going upside down.

"There's a snake under the lid," Cas said quickly, nodding to the sandbox.

Claire looked down at the green plastic lid, and then back to her father, "What kind?"

"I don't know."

"What color was it? Did it have a pattern?"

"I don't know!" Cas insisted, "I was preoccupied."

Melody thrashed, crying out loudly as she nearly kicked him in the face.

"Was there a rattle? You had to see that much."

"I didn't."

Cas had been startled enough, and now had such a wrestling match on his hands that he hadn't noticed Claire had pulled her phone out until she had it to her ear. She sat down in the closest chair as Melody continued her fussy tirade in his arms.

"Hey, it's me... Yeah, send somebody over to get a snake away from my house... He's not here. It's under Mel's sandbox... No... Because if I take care of it, I'm not going to look up what kind it is, I'm just gonna shoot it. You know that. Which breaks Dean's rule about only killing the venomous ones. Then when he hears the shot and comes over here and finds out it wasn't poisonous, I'm gonna tell him it's your fault for not coming over here... Yeah, well, I _get_ to play the girl-card, as I am one, but if you want to go that route, fine. Come handle the damn snake, or I will. And when I do, I will officially be more of a man than you... That's what I thought... 'Kay, bye."

Melody twisted once more as Cas tried to keep her from landing on the porch floor, now screaming, "rrrrRRRRRAAAA!!! POP-POP DOWN!"

"Melody!"

She froze at Claire's displeased exclamation of her name, turning to look at Claire.

"Knock it off," she said quietly, having gotten her daughter's full attention, "Pop-pop is scared of the snake. He needs hugs, not kicks."

Cas found it an odd sensation that Melody was able to right herself so easily, and that her sudden cooperation at being upright made her seem far lighter, but he didn't bother to remark on it as Claire quickly left the porch.

"Where are you going?"

"Relax," she called back, taking up a garden rake that had been at the far corner of the house, "I'm just going to pull the sandbox over, so the lid traps it until Randy or Blake come handle it."

"Be careful," Cas replied, shifting Melody to his hip.

Claire scoffed as she worked the tines under the edge of the plastic, catching it and dragging the heavy box of sand out from under the lid, assuming the lid would slip away, covering the snake, only to find the serpent had crawled up the hidden edge of the sandbox, and was now curled around itself, a pile of scaley loops in the sand. It took notice of Claire faster than she could jump back with a yelp and make a strike, attacking the wooden handle of the rake before retreating upon itself. A cold panic flowing, Claire swung the rake, letting it fly at the snake, and just as quickly as Cas had been, was up on the porch.

"Was there a rattle?" Cas asked.

Claire, still breathing hard and very shaken from the energy it had taken to move the box, jump away, throw the rake, and still run, glared at him, "What the fuck do you think?"

"Whaffuck, Pop-pop. Fnake," Melody agreed.

With a regretful look at her tiny daughter, Claire shook her head, "It's got a rattle, and it's not making any noise. I heard some of them are evolving not to do that. Or maybe it just didn't feel like it, but there is definitely a rattle... I'm getting a gun."

"You're going to shoot it?" Cas asked, starting to follow her into the house, "Why don't I call Dean-"

"Ah! Nope! Stay on the porch, make sure it doesn't go under the house," Claire stopped him, directing him back to the door, "It could wind up coming out of the damn walls, hatching eggs or whatever, I want to make sure it stays where it is. And it's not like we're getting sued, Dean doesn't have to run over here every couple of minutes over something as small as pest control."

Standing on the porch and looking over the railing, Cas watched as the snake lay oddly still. He wasn't familiar enough with snake behavior to guess at why, but he found it curious that he'd never had to deal with any near the larger house before, despite living so close to the junkyard.

Claire was back a moment later with a handgun and shooed him inside as he spotted Blake approaching the fence.

Cas had only been in the living room listening to the slightly raised voices outside and trying to get Melody interested in her toys when the loud slam of a door - at first he mistook if for a gunshot - rang through the house. Claire shuffled around in a cabinet in the hall, and Cas was certain he heard an electronic beeping, but she soon entered the living room and did what she could to get comfortable in the chair and footstool to the side of the couch.

"Are you okay?"

"No," Claire answered, "I'm tired... But I'll be able to sleep tonight."

"Why's Alfie out of town?"

"I told him to go," Claire answered, shifting in her seat. She sounded tired, but comfortable with the arrangement, "I don't want him here right now."

"You kicked him out?" Cas asked quietly, wondering how much she'd say with Melody in the room, "Why?"

"That thing didn't even have a rattle, can you believe that? God, I must be tired enough to be seeing things. Blake went to throw it over the fence."

"Claire-"

"I'm just tired. I've got a lot on my mind, and I need to think about some things-"

"Claire, what happened?" Cas asked softly.

"If I tell you, you're at risk."

"Claire..."

Claire took a deep breath, not looking at him, "The person who hurt me is dead... And not from natural causes... If he's telling me the truth, he found out but wasn't part of it, and kept it secret. Which, I guess, protected the person who did it... Or, I guess, had it done..."

"If he's lying? I suppose he would have been involved... Who else would go after them? Maybe another victim, or their family-"

" _His_ family... It was somebody in his family. They used Alfie to make sure they had the right guy, and only right before, like minutes before..."

Cas paused to think it through, "Why would they even know?"

"Because I told them. I was vague, but it was enough. Just one person with the stuff to get it done, and now it's done. That's it. Nothing else to do."

"But, years ago? And because he didn't tell you-... You think he was involved."

"I don't know what I think. But I know what he thinks, and he thinks the only reason he didn't set it up in the first place is because he'd back down, but he wanted it to happen."

"The death, right?"

"Yeah."

Cas shrugged, "If that's the only reason, do you want me to leave, as well? Are you going to suggest you never considered revenge? Gunning him down, arson, pain. None of that crossed your mind at any point?"

"That's different."

"Why?" Cas asked firmly, "Because it was you that got hurt? I don't say this to detract from what you suffered, but when something hurts you, to an extent, that pain carries over to the people who care about you. Watching someone you love deal with unimaginable pain is, in itself, excruciating. It may be from a second-hand cause, but it's still valid."

"Look, I know it hurts him too, okay? But he kept this from me, and he was too close to this. I need a while to think, so I told him to go. And he wouldn't feel guilty about this without a reason."

Cas shrugged, "I suppose. Although the fact that he's capable of feeling guilty about it in the first place proves a level of empathy I'm not sure I'd have."

"Why don't you seem more surprised by this?" Claire asked softly, her eyebrows nearly meeting.

"I had my suspicions regarding his family from the start. If he calls me, or Dean, or the boys, do you want to know?"

"No," Claire replied, "I don't think he will, though. He said to call whenever I want, but he was leaving town so I could go on with my life without having to worry about running into him on accident. Less stress, I guess."

"So you said 'jump,' and he said 'how high.'"

Claire shook her head, "No, he said 'murder,' and I said 'not okay.' This is just what's happening afterward."

"I guess you shouldn't... I guess I should get home. Under the circumstances, if it would be too much effort, I'll understand if you decide to skip the dinner. Maybe tomorrow would be better for everyone," Cas said quietly, getting up to leave.

"You think I'm wrong."

"I think, whatever happened, as you said, years ago, every angle of this points to him looking out for you, and after that, himself. And as I've gotten to know him better, I can't fault him for it. But it's not my decision, you're an adult, and you have your daughter to think of. You have to do what you believe is best, and if you're losing enough sleep over this that you needed to separate for a while, maybe you're right."

* * *

Dean awoke with a snort at the feeling of someone shaking his arm, "Dad..."

"What?" Dean asked, realizing the sun wasn't yet up. The red digits on the clock on the bedside table showed it was shortly after six thirty.

Ben was speaking softly, trying not to wake Cas, who'd been stressed and grumbling through a quick dinner, having postponed a larger dinner until the following night, "Caitlin's dad is on the phone, Della locked him in her room."

"What?" Dean asked again, this time more incredulously.

"Yeah. I tried to tell him to stay at the old ranch house, but he didn't want to do that until he gets the water and electric turned on, same reason-"

"Same reason he didn't want Caitlin there yet, I know... Okay, let me get dressed, and we'll go bust him out."

Once the door had clicked shut, Dean tried to extricate himself from the bed, but upon his attempt to move further away, Cas' hand on his thigh below the blankets tightened, attempting to pull him closer.

Dean pressed a soft kiss to Cas' lips as he shifted his husband's hands away, "Sweetheart, I gotta go, Ben needs some help."

"... that's the wrong contract. The baskets are fine."

With a chuckle, Dean kissed him once more, touching his cheek softly, "Love you, Cas."

"...love you... still lighting them on fire."

"Yeah, you do that," Dean replied, getting up from the bed.

After dragging on some clothes in the dark, he was soon downstairs, where Ben had left his blanket rumpled on the couch.

"So why'd he call you instead of the cops?" Dean asked, knocking some sleep from the corner of his eye.

"She's old. He's trying to take care of her, and... Well, I guess it's not working because she's a bitch," Ben answered, opening the front door.

Dean shrugged, "Yeah, okay... If I ever get like that, though, you stick me in a home, or just take me out back and shoot me. You kids deserve better than that."

"You won't get like that."

"You don't know."

"Oh, and if we wake her up, Xander kind of got us all kicked out of there yesterday. She was throwing stuff, mostly those little old lady figurines and stuff, and then blamed us for making her break her stuff when they'd hit the wall and bust into a billion pieces."

Dean rolled his eyes as they continued from the porch to the car, "Great. Just what I needed... How's Nathan gonna take it if I go in there and piss her off?"

Ben shook his head as he got into the car, "Probably wouldn't make a difference at this point, but I'll check."

Dean waited to start the car as Ben started a text to Nathan, and rubbed at his face in an effort to wake himself up a little more before getting on the road, "Find out if we're going in through the window or the door."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: Putting this after the chapter on purpose... Dual-purpose snake, y'all. Exposition and foreshadowing! Woot!
> 
> Thanks for reading! FW)


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: Have I smacked you in the feels lately? ...Here's a little more. You can take it.
> 
> Thanks for reading! FW)

* * *

Dean raised his fist, pounding on the door again, nearly interrupted as a small frame holding the tiny piece of eye-level glass behind a decorative bit of woodwork of the door swung backward into the house, only to be replaced by the upper half of the old woman's face.

"Go away! I'll call the police!" she threatened loudly in a voice that wavered with age.

"Yeah, do that. I'll put Nathan on the phone with them. Open up the goddamn door!" Dean ordered.

"I am not about to open my home to any more of you disrespectful queers!" she sneered.

Dean brought his other hand up high enough to point at her with the crowbar he held, "I'm not leaving here until I see Nathan face to face, and he tells me to go, because we got word from him that he needed help getting out of here, and he's trying to keep your wrinkled ass out of jail."

"You will not tell me what to do in my own home!"

"Fine." Dean barked, "I'm gonna wake up your neighbors and tell them we think you're dead. Ran over here in a panic, too, because you've got your nephew locked in the room where you were keeping his daughter. Just blast your business to the whole wide world, how does that sound? Open the door."

"You have a weapon!" Her argument against opening the door would have been reasonable if it hadn't been for the mocking tone with which it was said.

"I have some tools. Tools I'm gonna go take to the side of your house and do a shitty job with if you wanna do this the hard way."

Muttering wordy equivalents of curses under her breath, she pulled the door open, and Dean pushed his way past her, having gotten a rough description of the layout of the house from Ben on the drive over. He came to a door exactly where Ben had described it, and as he'd been told, it was padlocked shut.

Della had followed him at double arm's length, fussing and growling the entire way, but paid no attention to Ben following after her until all three had come to a stop.

"Nathan?" Dean called through the door, "You got any idea where the key is?"

"No, but at this point, I wouldn't put it past her to flush the damn thing," Nathan answered, muffled.

Dean rounded on her, "Unlock it."

Della crossed her arms, glowering, emphasizing nearly each word, "I unlock that door at seven o'clock, and-"

"That was your only warning," Dean said, cutting her off, and jammed the end of the crowbar under the metal plate affixed to the door, prying it off as wood splintered around it, causing the plates and lock hit the wooden floor, leaving a dent.

Staring at the damage, Ben wondered if Dean had used the angle that he had chosen in order to damage as much of the wall and door as possible, and found the idea highly likely.

Nathan pulled the door open, furious, unintentionally pushing Dean aside as he confronted his aunt.

* * *

In the first beams of early morning light, Claire wasn't yet awake, only aware, as a familiar tiny pile of limbs flopped down haphazardly next to her. Unwilling to drag herself to full consciousness, she managed to open her eyes and find, as expected, a tiny round face and scraggly hair, thumb in mouth, and a hint of dried snot under the child's nostrils.

She closed her eyes again, thoughts drifting. She should have had Kevin give her a trim while they'd been over, or maybe a shorter cut, considering how crazy Mel's hair got sometimes. She'd call the salon later and set an appointment up. And her nose was runny, had she been taking her vitamins? She should give them to her at dinner. Had she fed Mel the night before? Surely she wouldn't put her to bed hungry. Right... it was spaghettios. She'd gotten them in her hair somehow. She needed to call the salon...

Claire drifted off again, and didn't wake until Melody rolled over next to her an hour or two later. She sat up slowly, careful not to wake her, and heard the tiny girl take in a loud, bubbling sniffle. Frowning at the prospect of her child being ill, she got up carefully, and took her phone from the nightstand.

Downstairs in the kitchen, having found no messages or calls, she was filling the coffee pot when she spotted Ben coming around the corner, clearly making his way to her door rather than the shop.

Setting the carafe down, she went to the hallway and opened the door, giving him a quick wave to come inside once he reached it, and went back to the kitchen. She'd gotten the coffee started and was checking the milk was still good for Melody's cereal when Ben came in quietly and found her in the kitchen.

"Hey, is Alfie up yet?"

"I kicked him out. Dad didn't tell you?"

A quick glance at Ben's face made it clear he was surprised by the information, and as such, could not have been informed.

"Um... Okay... Did you need me and Xander to give him a beatdown, or something? What's going on?"

Claire shook her head, "You know damn well I'm the one who handles beatdowns around here. But what did you need? And why this early?"

"I bought the ranch house from him, but no paperwork yet, so I need some kind of proof to show so Caitlin's dad can set up the electric bill. She's gonna be living there."

Claire shot him a skeptical look, "You're not just going to put the bills in your name? What are you working two jobs for, I mean, you're just going to let him pay for that?"

"Because I'm not going to be living there. No plans at all, right now," Ben answered, "So, since it's just her, he wants to pay for it, since it's a big favor to him, since he can't afford to just get her an apartment... Anyway, if Alfie's not around, maybe you can call Crowley about this? He'd probably have to handle it anyway, right?"

She took a breath to calm the tingle of fear that shot down her spine as she heard the name, then shook her head, "Nope. I don't want to call Crowley. You can check if he left anything upstairs, though, sometimes he leaves important stuff on the desk."

"Okay, seriously, what the hell is going on?" Ben asked.

Claire shrugged, "Money, complicating things. Why the hell are you buying a house you're not living in? That's way more suspicious."

"I... I got her pregnant, and she miscarried... She didn't want to go back to that hellhole, so she came to the house, and Dad and Pops sure as shit weren't going to make her leave. Now her dad's in town trying to get stuff straightened out, and I'm getting two years worth of grilling and, I dunno, not-quite approval from him all in one go, and I'm hanging on by my fingernails, here."

Claire looked blankly at the pot of coffee she'd not yet had the chance to consume, then back to Ben, "I'm sorry, you said... You got her pregnant? You mean the two of you got pregnant."

"And she miscarried," Ben answered, "Yeah... But, I mean, she's got a year left, I've got two years, then veterinary school, so, you know, it's probably better, I don't know."

Claire shook her head, "You don't have to do that."

"Do what?" Ben asked.

"Try and make it sound better, make excuses for it. It's okay to be sad about it."

Ben shook his head, and gestured slightly as though it were unimportant, "No, that's not- I just need to kind of keep it together right now, until everything kind of falls into place. It's just, you know, Caitlin needs some support-..."

After two long days of fighting back a second round of tears, Ben's face began to twist as he was losing the battle. Claire hugged him firmly, patting the back of his shoulder, "It's okay."

"Y'know, I just keep wondering if it was a boy or a girl? Not like it matters, doesn't change anything, anyway. And Caitlin just keeps going back and forth between sad, and nothing, like she's some kind of angry robot, she just shuts down. And I'm trying to take care of her, but it's like she's not there, and when she is, it all just sucks."

"Does her dad like you?" Claire asked, keeping her hand on his shoulder as he pulled away.

"I guess? I don't know. He's yelled at his aunt more than at me, so, maybe he doesn't hate my guts?"

"Well, if he hasn't taken a swing at you or tried to get you arrested by now, I'm pretty sure you're okay," Claire reassured him, "I gotta get some coffee. Go check the desk, maybe he left some paperwork. If he didn't, maybe I can set it up, and put her dad on as a second person."

"You can do that?"

"Yeah. He added me to the deed for everything that used to be Novak land when we got married. Well, except this place, it's all still Dean's. Anyway, if he still legally owns it, then so do I. I'll help sort it out, I just need to wake up first."

Ben nodded, and quietly went upstairs, well aware that if Melody wasn't audible, and neither was the channel full of preschool cartoons, she was most certainly unconscious. He spotted her sprawled on the large bed in what used to be his father's room, and passed the doorway going into the nook that was Bobby's study an even longer time ago. He and Dean had mostly ignored the space when they'd lived there, but he was happy to see it hadn't changed much. The computer was newer, and had far more gizmos attached, but the shelves were still mostly full of the old man's books.

A desultory once-over gave no hint at any sort of legal papers, only a few jumbled sketches and what appeared to be roughly half of a shopping list.

Satisfied that Alfie hadn't yet started to transfer ownership yet, aside from providing him the keys and accepting the token nickel he'd provided as a joke, Ben started back to the stairs. A quiet, unhappy mumble stopped him, and he took a step back on his course to look in on Melody again, finding her sitting up and pulling at one ear with a frown. The frown deepened as she caught sight of him, which was apparently upsetting.

"Mammmmaaaa!" she fussed, as tears threatened at the edges of her eyes.

"She's downstairs. You want to go to her?" Ben offered, holding his hand out in an invitation to walk her down.

"No!" Melody continued, "Maaama!"

Ben shifted to face her directly and offered both hands, as if he were to pick her up, and with a slimy snuffling noise, she scooted forward and reached for him in reply, flexing her tiny fingers, still complaining miserably.

He stepped into the room, scooping her up off the bed, and started for the kitchen, hoping she wouldn't smear much of what was on her face into the shoulder of his shirt.

"I didn't see any papers," Ben said, getting to the bottom of the stairs, "You might want to take Mel's temperature, though, she's really warm."

"She's always a little warm when she wakes up," Claire replied.

"Well, her ear is red, she was pulling on it."

"What?" Claire asked, coming closer, "Aw, no... I was really hoping it was just her nose."

Ben held steady as Claire put a gentle hand to Melody's forehead, brushing aside her clumping bangs, and feeling the heat Ben mentioned as soon as she hit skin. She set her coffee cup down and took Melody from Ben, stroking her hair away from her face as melody curled against her shoulder. 

"Can you get the first aid kit down for me? Her pediatrician is going to ask right away when I call, better to check it first."

"Sure," Ben answered, taking the plastic box from the top of the fridge that Claire had pointed to. He set it on the counter, and Claire started to reach for it, but he had it open and pulled out the temporal thermometer for her in no time.

* * *

Dean had begged off after Nathan's rescue that morning, insisting he'd be needed at the shop, as Saturdays were usually busy. 

Ben had been helping Nathan with some small but necessary repair to the ranch house, which was, oddly, a ranch-style house as well as being located on a former ranch, and Cas, finally having a quiet moment, began cleaning the kitchen. He was expecting Claire to come by later, to get on the phone with the local electric company with Nathan available to get the utilities started, and he was aware that she'd needed to take Melody in to see an on-call doctor, delaying it from happening that morning. He kept his phone close, as she normally had Alfie handle Melody's doctors appointments. A few early appointments in Melody's infancy had brought about panic attacks, and while Melody herself was fine, if unhappy with the situation, Claire was unable to be in the room.

He planned as he cleaned, going over options in his mind for what was available and fast for a light lunch, depending on who was around for it, and what might be needed for a large, and hopefully early dinner.

He'd barely finished sweeping when a small, tired voice at the table behind him made him jump, "Do you think God is punishing me?"

Turning around, and finding only Caitlin, red-eyed and depressed, he settled quickly.

"I don't think so, no," Cas said softly, putting the broom and dustpan away, "At any rate, any god that would use... _this_ as a punishment certainly isn't worthy of any sort of adoration."

"Just, I always heard one thing growing up, and then rejected it, and then, as stupid as it sounds... I mean, I know, logically, there was probably something wrong, something wasn't working, and scientifically, the fetus can't survive it, so it just ends, but, then, why did it have to be this one, at this time? And why me?"

Cas shook his head, "I'm sorry, I don't have any answers for you. I wish I did... I do have some tea, though, and if you'd like to apply logic and science to that, the ingredients do tend to reduce stress."

With a tearful chuckle Caitlin nodded, and Cas pulled three different boxes of single serving tea bags from a cabinet, and started some plain water through the coffee pot.

"I'm not going to insult your intelligence by saying that everything happens for a reason," Cas said softly, transferring a mug, spoon, sugar, and the boxes to the table, "But if it's any comfort to you, I'm sure, had you been given the option, whatever you decided to do, it would have been a well informed and educated decision, and you would have done it well."

Caitlin wiped a stray tear out of the corner of her eye awkwardly, "You're the first person who hasn't just assumed I would keep it, or told me it's for the best."

Cas shrugged, "Maybe not, but discussing alternatives in front of you while you're grieving would normally be in bad taste. No one wants to hurt your feelings, of course."

She nodded, "I don't know what I would have done, but I know what Ben would have wanted to do."

"Well, it's good to know he'd be supportive in the most long term option, I'd hope he'd be willing to discuss the others."

Caitlin was quiet as the water started to percolate through the machine and into the carafe, "You don't think I should have kept it, if I could have."

"I don't have an opinion on what you should have done, if you had been able to choose. Claire's mother was pregnant during my senior year of college, she was born shortly after I graduated. I didn't make the best decisions where she was concerned, and she suffered for it, but in every choice I made, I thought I was doing what was best, for her, and for myself. Life is, usually, one big guessing game, and you are the only person who knows the extent of work you're willing to take on, the sacrifices you'd be willing to make, and the priorities you're willing to shift aside, so you are the only one who can make those choices for yourself."

Cas brought the carafe to the table, filling Caitlin's mug, and went back to the counter to set it down.

"But if I... If I had had the baby, and then just dumped it with Ben, you guys never would have forgiven me for that, right?"

Cas swallowed hard before he turned back around, "I realize that scenario may sound awful to you, but that probably would have been the best possible option for Claire, and as long as you were both on the same page about it, I would have supported that plan completely."

* * *

After three days of isolation and misery, no amount of ear drops, antibiotic syrup, or warm baths seeming to make a difference, Claire answered a knock at her front door, fully expecting a family member to drop in to make sure she was still alive.

A family member from her own side, however. One of her parents, or brothers, possibly Margaret or Kevin.

She hadn't expected, as she opened the door with Melody's head on her shoulder, to find Lucius standing on the porch.

With a near overly-sympathetic reaction, yet still happy to see them both, Lucius gestured to Melody, "Oh, now, look at that, she's gotten so big. Not feeling very good today?"

Drained, Claire nodded, "Double ear infection, sinus infection, and a cough. I'm not even sure the medicine's helping, but she's got an appointment with her regular doctor tomorrow, I just have to keep her resting until then."

"Well, I would have called, and I guess I should have, but, when nap times happen so often, I didn't want to wake anybody... Can I hold her?"

Claire shrugged slightly, "If she'll let you... Mel, that's Daddy's dad, Grandpa Lucius. You remember him?"

"No Lu-sis," Melody mumbled, "Daddy."

Claire did her best not to roll her eyes, "Daddy's on a trip."

Apparently satisfied with her father's unavailability, Melody straightened up and accepted being passed to Lucius as Claire stepped aside, letting him in.

"Melody, you are such a big girl! How old are you now?" Lucius asked, bouncing her gently while taking a careful note of her changing face, aged a year since he'd last seen it.

Melody only grumbled low in her throat and shook her head, popping a thumb into her mouth as he walked. Next to his ear as she was, Claire was certain he could hear the odd bubbling sounds in her tiny breaths.

"Is she still not saying much?" Lucius asked, following her toward the kitchen table where she'd left several stacks of papers in a chaotic form of order.

"Well, her word count is on target, and when she talks, believe me, you'll hear it... Can I get you anything to drink?"

"Oh, no. I'm just fine," Lucius caught Melody's attempt to look at the television through the darkened living room where her cartoons were playing quietly, and stepped close to the back of the couch, setting her down as she started to squirm. She dropped clumsily into a ball against a large cushion that made her look even smaller, and Lucius spread a rumpled and cast-aside blanket over her.

Turning back around, he found Claire going over several different papers on the table, likely finding her place after Melody's last uncomfortable interruption. She was bent as though she'd stopped while attempting to sit down, and had forgotten to fully take her seat. Taking advantage of the distraction, Lucius stepped closer as quietly as he could and slipped into the chair across from her, which seemed to help her to remember to sit down.

"What's she like, so far?" Lucius asked.

"She's, um.... Assertive. And opinionated."

"She's a brat?" Lucius asked with an approving grin, "I love it."

"I'm sorry," Claire started, her attention still split, "I know you probably came out here to see Samandriel, and he's not in town right now."

"Well," Lucius offered a disinterested shrug, looking around and taking his surroundings in a little too innocently, "He is the reason I'm here, but I knew he wasn't around. He called me."

"Oh," Claire responded, "So he filled you in?"

"He told me everything," he stated, before wobbling his head slightly, as if reconsidering his statement, "And I pretty much mean, everything... Right down to the gory bits."

Claire set the papers she was holding aside, and it was perfectly evident he'd gotten her full attention.

"Don't you worry about it, I mean, sure, you need to unload sometimes, right? Well, he's gotta do the same, and who's gonna listen like dear old dad? So, he called me up, and while there was a little bit of a background involving you - so sorry to hear about that, by the way, - my brother was the big disappointment."

Her mind having blanked as she tried to take it all in, Claire shifted awkwardly, and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, "So, you really mean everything, huh?"

"I gotta say, dear, you have certainly seemed to make the best of it, seems like it toughened you up quite a bit. I wouldn't mind having you in my corner in a fist fight."

"Maybe," Claire answered dismissively, "Maybe it's just working at the shop and hanging out with guys all the time."

"Well, whatever it is, you're clearly not taking any shit off of anybody. Though I suppose you could have been John Wayne in a past life."

Claire shook her head at his suggestion, although a smirk did cross her face, "So, if he told you everything, and you know what Crowley did, and that he's not home, then I guess you weren't just stopping in to see Melody."

"I've always liked you, Claire. Ever since watching you put Naomi in her place when she was harassing that kid at your wedding for wearing jeans. She's at least twice your age, and she has a real business presence, but you just told her how it was going to be, and offered her the door. No bridezilla moments, just a big fat 'take it or leave it.' And you know by now, I'm sure, that my son is never going to have your nerve.

"Don't get me wrong, he's my child, I love him, he's my baby, and I want what's best for him, and you certainly fit the bill, but at the same time... He's a wimp. Complete push-over, no head for economics, he's never had to scrimp and save, and he's sure as hell never known hunger... Have you? Known hunger, I mean? Probably before your dad swooped in, right?"

"I don't..." Claire shrugged, feeling uncomfortably lulled into a false security and fighting it, "I try not to think about anything before I moved here. It helps me cope."

Lucius sat back in his chair, clearly comfortable, "Every conversation we've had about your dad's shop out back has been loaded with bits and pieces you and I both understood, but went right over my son's head... Crowley's too busy to have kids, the whole shebang falls on the shoulders of the would-be struggling artist-slash-stay-at-home-dad, but sitting here, right here in front of me, seems like, is the best combo of brain and willpower, all set to be not only the strong woman behind the man, but also, possibly, the one pulling the strings and making the hard decisions... You didn't exactly go running to the powers that be about your uncle-in-law."

"I think I've got a good idea what would happen if I did," Claire replied quietly.

"Well," Lucius dragged out the word as if considering it, made a face and shook his head, "Maybe, could be, but that would only upset my little boy. And I can't have that. I mean, he's a little upset right now, but you, no, that's out of the question. I _need_ you, Claire. The little last name stunt was cute, and I know that was his idea, but you, you slap a public face on this, the empowered woman of tomorrow, you'd be a big asset, run the place when I'm gone, and show off a modernized, equal partnership with your husband... Or, you could always do what I did with Rachel, keep him around on an official basis, see him as little as you can possibly manage, and maybe pop out another kid or two to keep him busy."

"That's not-"

"I'm gonna give you a chance to ask a favor, okay? See if we can settle this. A show of good faith, and maybe smooth things out between you and 'Alfie.' There can't be much you want, not when he's got the chance to give you anything, and I know you're the type to turn down mansions and jewels for a two-bed-two-bath ramshackle and a metric set of sockets... But I can make stuff happen. And if you want, say, the instigator in this big, complicated mess to go out the same way, I can find out who he hired and have it done."

"Crowley?" Claire asked.

He made another childish face, "If that's what wipes your slate. Floats your boat... Drops your anchor."

Grateful her hands had fallen to her lap, as now they were shaking, she shook her head anxiously, "No... I, um... I can't have something like that hanging over my head."

"So, just to be clear, Crowley lives?" Lucius asked, ask though the question were both normal and genuine.

"Yeah," Claire answered, her voice barely a whisper as she tried to keep still.

"Okay... So I guess, deep down, he was probably looking out for you... You know, in his own twisted way."

Claire nodded, unsure what reaction would best steer the conversation away from further murders.

"It's good to see that kind of forgiveness in the world," he said with a small smile, "Not sure how well it would translate to business purposes, but, if this was a test, you passed... And that might be a better way for you to look at it, okay?"

Claire nodded once more, attempting to answer with an 'okay' of her own, only to have the word get stuck in her throat.

Lucius got up from his seat, circling the table, and leaned down to give her a quick one-armed squeeze of the shoulders, "I just love coming to see you, this place is always so warm and welcoming, you know? Visiting family like this..."

Claire fought a wave of nausea as he crossed the short distance to where Melody had fallen asleep on the couch and bent to kiss the top of her head, straightening her blanket as she'd fallen asleep. Standing again, he turned back around, "I've got an early flight, I'm sure you'll say hi to my son for me?"

"Of course," Claire answered with a nod, still frozen to her seat.

"Well, you're tired, and you've got a sick baby, I'll just show myself out," Lucius smiled warmly, further setting Claire's teeth on edge, "You two have a very restful night."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N2: Yes, Lucius is Lucifer. Crowley hinted at that during the bike-wreck flashbacks during the Rachel thing.)


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: Chapters are really coming rapid-fire, now.
> 
> Coming to another jump soon, this will be about a year, but not for at least one more chapter.
> 
> Thanks for reading! FW)

* * *

"You've been quiet... Something on your mind?" Cas asked in the darkness.

Dean shifted slightly, rolling onto his back, "Found a receipt while I was doing laundry... You sent somebody some flowers, just trying to figure out who."

"You could have asked, I have nothing to hide from you."

Dean turned onto his side, only able to make out Cas' profile, "Okay, then, who's getting flowers from you?"

"I sent a nursery arrangement to Lisa's grave... I sent flowers to her when Ben graduated, and to Sharon's grave when Xander graduated, and on their eighteenth birthdays, and I'm probably going to keep doing things like that when the boys reach milestones in their lives. So next time, check if there's a specific city it's going to."

"I did check," Dean said quietly, "There wasn't an address."

Cas turned his head to face him, "You're so jealous your eyes are green."

"You love starting shit, I swear you do it for the attention."

"I could have your attention much more easily than trying to cause drama. I can barely adjust my clothing without you drooling."

Dean threw an arm over Cas and drew them close together, "Okay, I gotta know, why? I mean, it almost makes sense, I guess something's not clicking."

"Acknowledging their contributions makes me feel like less of a replacement, and more of an honest parent to them."

"You don't send anything to Amelia."

Cas grunted his displeasure, "That bitch is still alive, that's the greatest gift I can give her, I owe her nothing. Less than nothing, if possible. And anyway, I've never felt like a replacement where Claire was concerned."

"So this is about you, right?" Dean asked.

Cas adjusted his arms to get them around Dean, "Graves, funerals, flowers, all of that is for the living. It's a service that at the center of it, is understandably selfish. For instance, my parents wanted to be cremated, and my uncle had them buried, because my grandmother was upset about the idea. I think that was the one honest conversation he had with me, explaining that. He said death takes the person away, and how we treat what's left is how we heal. If it isn't healing, the purpose is lost."

"Great, now I gotta update my will," Dean pretended to complain, "It's gonna say, 'do whatever, do it cheap, but put me next to Cas.'"

"That's really how you want it?" Cas asked, "I thought you wanted to be cremated and scattered?"

Dean shrugged, "Yeah, well, all of 'em have had too much to deal with already. I'd die for any one of the kids, so whatever makes it easier on them, you know? Not like I'm gonna notice. What about you? You're not gonna get tired of me snoring after a few thousand years?"

"As long as it's not right in my ear," Cas muttered, shifting Dean roughly to face away from him, and pulling Dean's back tight against his chest, planting a kiss against the back of Dean's neck as his hands found comfortable positions on Dean's chest and stomach, "This could work."

"Yeah, this could work," Dean said quietly, contented. The room went silent for several minutes, and he'd nearly drifted off when Cas moved slightly against the back of his neck, waking him again, stirring his thoughts, "Cas?"

"Hm?"

"Do you think, I mean, maybe at some point, we just weren't clear enough? This whole thing with Caitlin, and Ben's just-"

"Shh... You've been leaving boxes of condoms in the boys' bathroom in clear sight since they were fifteen. I can't remember how many times you've sat them down and spelled it out for them. There's only so much you can do or say, and then you have to trust them to make their own decisions... And anyway, no method is foolproof."

"Ours is."

"Only for pregnancy. Higher risk of transmission. Anyway, my point is, you didn't fail them. Go to sleep," Dean was quiet for a moment, before he shifted slightly, just enough that Cas' eyes popped open again, "Now what?"

"Xander... He's been really busy lately for somebody who doesn't have that much to be busy with."

"Dean, really."

"I'll just get him into a room with Claire, if he's on drugs, she'll know, and she'll tell me."

"Xander's not on drugs."

"You asked him?"

Cas scoffed, "Dean, go to sleep. You can deal with your parental guilt in the morning, with a clear head."

Pressing his cheek to the back of Dean's shoulders, Cas felt his breaths deepen, and despite the fidgeting he felt from Dean picking lightly at his fingertips, he began to drift off, only to be shaken awake as Dean turned over in his arms. A reaction of irritation was quickly shut down as Dean kissed him deeply before settling against his chest.

* * *

Her hands far less than steady with a lack of sleep, and the past half hour dealing with an unhappy toddler being poked and prodded while in a constant state of whining fuss, Claire painstakingly buckled Melody into her car seat.

"I know, I know. Here, hold your dolly... Okay... Mama's gotta call Daddy... Tell him what the doctor said... And I just need, like, two seconds. Look, I'll go stand by the trunk and you can see me through the window, okay?"

"No."

"Okay, not okay. You're entitled to your opinion, but I'm still doing it... Two seconds, then we'll go get donuts and go home."

"Wine donuts."

"Yep, line donuts. You love those stripes, huh?"

Claire stood and closed the back door of the sedan, circling around to stand by the trunk, certain she was more than ready for Melody to reach her weight limit to sit forward facing so she'd be able to handle the car seat straps in the Chevelle. She had her phone to her ear, and despite the morning still being fairly early for a guy who'd likely been up late obsessing over shadows and light, Alfie answered immediately.

" _Claire?_ "

"Get your ass home right now, I swear to god-"

" _I don't know, you sound pissed._ "

"I am pissed. But that's not important right now, Melody's sick, and her doctor said it's not clearing up, and she needs tubes in her ears, and she's never been put under before and I am freaking out, okay? ...What? That's what you were waiting for, right? I said get home."

" _I just-... You don't sound like you really want me there to talk about this, maybe you need to take a second and consider that you have a lot of support, I know you don't need me for this, you could manage without me there._ "

"Did you hear what I just said to you?" Claire hissed, "Surgery. Teeny tiny little ten-minute procedure, yeah, but our child needs surgery, and you're telling me to go pester somebody else?"

" _That's not how it was supposed to come out... What I meant was, you have a lot of people to lean on, and tubes aren't exactly a huge deal, so if you're not ready-_ "

"Your dad came by last night," Claire snapped.

" _...My dad?_ "

"Get your ass home before I track you down and kick it."

" _Okay, calm down. I'll throw everything in the car and come straight home, just, are we going to talk about this?_ "

"More than you have any idea about. Now am I telling Mel you're on your way back?"

" _Yeah, tell her. I'll be home in about an hour and a half._ "

"Okay..." Claire said meekly as her emotions fluxed.

" _Are you okay? Maybe you shouldn't drive, if you need to call somebody-_ "

"Shut up. She's getting her damn zebra stripe donuts."

" _Yeah, okay, I'll be home soon... I love you._ "

"Choke on a dick," Claire replied, then after a second thought, "...I love you, too."

She could have sworn she heard an amused chuckle as she abruptly ended the call. With a quick wave at the tiny face in the back seat, she went to the driver door and got in, "Okay, I talked to Daddy, and he's on his way home so Mama doesn't freak out... Any more than she already is... so now we go get donuts, line donuts, and we take them home and eat them."

"Choccamilk," Melody answered her, "No messin, Mama."

"Chocolate milk is fine, but medicine is happening. Sorry."

"No!"

"Line donuts, Mel," Claire replied, shaking her head as she turned the key, "Let's focus on the upside. We get line donuts, and if Daddy's really lucky, we might even save him one."

* * *

Despite the lengthy drive home, Alfie had no inclination to turn on the radio, instead listening to the droning of road noise, and contemplating the possibilities of his father's visit.

With his world crashing down around him, something he'd expected to occur eventually, ever since the initial cracks had formed years ago with Crowley's two-word text, Alfie had needed to unload on someone, and only two people in the world had as much to lose as he did from speaking about it - Crowley himself, and Lucius. As such, it was Lucius he'd called, it had to be.

He wasn't ashamed to admit with the thought of losing his wife and his child, he'd cried a bit while on the phone with his father. Normally he'd be worried about showing any sort of weakness, but at the same time, through Crowley's actions, he'd come to a risk of losing everything he cared about.

Lucius didn't visit. Not without planning ahead six months in advance. He was a busy man, running things, day-in, day-out. Alfie had been surprised to get a call back from him the same day. But for him to show up in order to speak to Claire in person, he was sure something important had to have been pushed aside, and he was concerned. The part that bothered him the most was that his father had gone to the trouble of traveling internationally all the way to his front door without telling him it was happening, and, he assumed, had already left again.

Reaching the house in the junkyard, he parked his car and started inside quietly, hoping if either Claire or Melody, and from the sound of things he'd hoped both, were sleeping, they would continue undisturbed. He closed the door softly as he went inside, only to hear his daughter growling angrily from the living room floor, and coming to the foot of the stairs, found out why.

Claire had wrapped around her from behind, rolled them both to the floor on her side, managed to get several drops of a prescribed liquid into her ear, and Melody was livid.

"WHAH-FUCK, MAMA!" Melody screamed shrilly.

Holding Melody still so the drops would make their way to the bottom of her ear canal, Claire let her own head down to the floor in exhausted annoyance.

"Somebody learned a new word," Alfie said softly.

Melody wriggled free and ran to him, reaching to be picked up even before she came around the end of the couch.

"You want to criticize me about that? Knock yourself out," Claire answered, getting to her feet. He'd scooped Melody up before Claire reached him, settling her on his hip, and Claire pressed the open bottle and it's cap into his free hand as she passed him, going into the kitchen, "Your turn."

"No messin!" Melody protested.

"I'm not criticizing you," Alfie answered. He didn't follow her, instead going to the couch.

"Three drops, right ear. Don't take too long, it's on a schedule."

"How long is too long?" Alfie asked.

"How much hearing loss is okay with you?" Claire called back in reply.

He could tell from the sounds in the kitchen she was setting up a pot of coffee, and wondered how difficult her morning had been that she either hadn't done it yet, decided a second pot was necessary, or if it were simply an automatic reaction to keep her busy and further away from him.

Alfie carefully got Melody to lay down on her left side, watching her cartoon with her head on his lap as he stroked her hair, waiting no more than a minute before sneaking the bottle close to her ear. With the last infection, he'd gotten something of a routine down, and she nearly cooperated with it, although Claire hadn't been able to achieve the same effect.

"Raindrops," he said quietly.

"No dip-dit," Melody argued, not taking her attention away from her show.

"Uh-oh, here they come," he applied the drops to the cup of her ear, where they'd make contact, warming slightly as they slid into her ear canal, "Drip... drip... drip..."

She squirmed a bit with the last one, batting at her ear, but stayed in place, eyes glued to the colorful characters on the screen, and he put the cap back on the bottle, moving it to the back of the couch above her. After a short time, Melody sniffled loudly and stuck a finger in her mouth, clearly coming close to napping. He continued to stroke her hair, pausing a moment to feel the temperature of her forehead, which as overly warm.

He tucked a throw pillow under her head to replace his thigh before leaning closer to her and singing her a quiet lullaby, which seemed to have no effect. Standing up from the couch, though, she didn't stir to follow him, a sure sign she'd be asleep shortly.

In the kitchen, he found Claire with a half-finished cup of coffee, hurriedly completing a sticky-note to apply to one stack of paper, and then pulling another one closer to go over it, "Claire, it can wait."

"Right, wait until I'm stuck in a waiting room with nothing else to do? I don't think so. I'll be busy freaking out."

Alfie leaned on the back of the chair his father had been in the night before, "I don't know what you want me to do. You don't want me here, or gone, and if you wanted to talk, you wouldn't be digging into paperwork like it's got a cure for cancer."

Claire sat back as she tossed the current stack of printed loose-leaf onto the table top, and folded her hands, "Okay, I'm done. What?"

"What? ...You called me. You said we'd talk about-"

"He offered to put an end to your uncle."

Uncertain he'd heard her right, Alfie cocked his head, "He-... what?"

"He basically said Crowley was starting shit, and if it would make me happy, he'd find out who Crowley hired, and have the same thing done to him, especially if it would sort things out between us. He shows up, holds Mel, talks about how big she's getting, and then offered to kill his own brother to get you back on my good side."

Suddenly off balance, Alfie clumsily sat down in his usual chair across a corner to her, "This is- Just, that's-"

"Yeah."

"Did he?"

"I told him I didn't want that. He made it seem like that was the only reason he didn't," Claire said quietly, "And he said you're not going to be able to handle his company stuff when he's gone, he wants me to do it... I don't want him out here again."

Alfie shook his head, "I can almost get behind what Crowley did, but this... I'm sorry."

"Would he joke about this?" Claire asked in a strained, hushed voice.

"I have no idea," Alfie replied, certain his father wouldn't travel thousands of miles over a joke.

"What happens now?" Claire asked.

Alfie shook his head, "I have to tell Crowley about this, right? I mean, warning him that it even came up is the right thing to do, isn't it?"

"I don't know. But if word gets back to your dad, I don't know what he's going to do. He kind of tried to call it a test, after the fact, but I don't believe that for a second... I don't want anything to do with your dad's company, but if he tries threatening you, or Mel, or anyone else-"

"Beat him to death. He's got the cushiest desk job ever, you can take him, then I inherit, so nobody can pay to kill you back. We say it was self-defense."

Claire rolled her eyes, "That's the stupidest thing you've ever said."

Alfie held her gaze a moment too long, and she scoffed, a second later shaking her head, "You can't be serious."

"I am," Alfie answered, "Obviously we can't take risks here, somebody got killed. Granted, someone who had it coming, and maybe it's to keep us quiet, I don't know, but aside from taking that one guy out, Crowley's only ever tried to be helpful... I don't think we can trust either of them, but, he's got no reason to go after Crowley."

Claire set her elbows on the table, burying her face in her hands, "This isn't how I wanted things to go."

"I know. Me either."

"Priorities today were supposed to be setting up for her tubes, and getting her donuts, and the bakery was out of zebra stripe, she had to settle for chocolate. I can't even do that right."

"It's not your fault... And you need to sleep."

Claire shook her head, "How the hell am I supposed to sleep when your family wants me to be okay with them killing people, and use you like a puppet to carry on their bullshit when they're gone?"

"We outlive them. They're older than your folks, even, because my parents waited a while to have me, so it won't take as long as you'd think, or maybe they'll go Hamlet and take each other out... And then, I stay useless, the board takes over, and we sit back and relax, or I just find a way to get disowned as fast as I can."

The kitchen was silent as Claire gathered her thoughts, and Alfie decided he wasn't about to interrupt them. Finally, fighting to keep her composure, Claire turned back to him, "Is there anything else you've been keeping from me? Anything at all that affects me or Melody?"

"Yes," Alfie said solemnly with a nod, "There are a few things I haven't told you."

"Okay," Claire answered, bracing herself for him to continue.

"Some things I've been keeping from you, are, well, what you're getting for your birthday, and Christmas... And I thought for our anniversary, maybe we'd go to Tahiti..."

Claire bit back a chuckle as he spoke, "Shut up."

"And, I know you don't want to overdo the material stuff, but when Melody's fifth birthday rolls around, I was thinking maybe Disney-"

She stood and straddled his lap, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as he slid his hands up her thighs to rest on her hips. Curled around him, the stress still existed, but its effects weakened significantly. She had every urged to bawl her eyes out, but no energy to do it, "I didn't want our lives to be like this."

She felt it as he nodded, "Claire, if, um... If you ever think you or Melody are safer without me-"

"I need you close by. Keeps both of us safe from your dad. If he'd go after his own brother that fast-"

"No, I mean, if you ever need out, I'm setting things up so you'll be able to disappear. I'd go, I don't want you to stay with me because you have to, that wouldn't work. You ever want out, I'm out, and whatever it was, I tell my dad it was my decision, and he leaves you alone. And if he doesn't, you've got everything you need, supplied on my mom's side, he'll never know... I even had a DNA test forged saying Melody's not mine, in case it ever comes to that."

Claire sat back to look at him, "What the hell have you been doing the last four days?"

"Worrying... And planning... I had to make nice at my mom to get it done, but, it's done. A whole safety net, fake passports, cash, the whole nine," Alfie said softly, "When I said I'd protect you from anything, I meant it. Anything. Even me."

Claire kissed him gently before wrapping her arms around his neck and settling against him once more.

"You need to sleep," Alfie told her, unable to resist giving one side of her ass a squeeze, "Go on upstairs, I'll bring Mel."

"You're gonna stay, right?" Claire asked as she climbed off him.

"As long as you'll let me."

* * *

"You know, I really thought this place was going to be empty," Caitlin said quietly, looking around the very simply furnished living room from the couch where she leaned against Ben's shoulder, "I mean, like, really empty. No couch, no TV, I mean, I was thinking milk crates and a couch off Craigslist."

"It's kind of empty," Xander answered from the kitchen, "But since Ben started talking about it months ago, Alfie probably had somebody come in and throw some stuff in here. Seems like the kind of crap he'd do."

Xander finished pouring himself some juice and went back to the living room.

"That's stupid. It's probably just left over stuff from the folks that owned the place. Who'd put a bed in a vet's office?" Ben replied.

"There's no way ranchers would have this much new stuff, or just leave it. It doesn't have scuff marks or anything. Alfie did it, and probably because you were back and forth between seeing about this place, and getting an apartment with Jack, and you were never talking about both at the same time."

Ben shrugged, "I didn't think I could do both. I figured I'd live in it until I could work out of it, or maybe set up a smaller office kind of thing inside the barn, get things going, then move out later."

"Sorry, I'm with Xander on this," Caitlin said, "There was plastic on the mattress, it was definitely new. And except for that half-finished wall patch, the whole place was in way too good a shape to have been sitting here for... How long was it empty?"

"Uh, he bought it before Claire moved out, so, seven years ago? And he gave them a couple of years to move out, because it wasn't really this place he was after, I guess it's been empty for four and a half, maybe five years?"

Caitlin looked around again, "There's no way. Even if nothing broke or leaked, it's too clean."

Xander sprawled sideways onto a large armchair, shifting the heavy chair with the weight of his muscular frame, "Stop arguing with the brain, man. You know six months ago when you asked if it was empty, said it's a good spot for playing doctor with poor sick baby ducks or whatever, Alfie called somebody, who called somebody else, and they called some poor dipshit, and that dipshit got his people to come over here and clean, patch it up, paint, fix the roof, and they put furniture in it just for you. You check the garage for a stripper pole yet? If he thought Jack was gonna room with you, there's probably a stripper pole. Make sure it's the kind that spins."

"What the heck would you want with a stripper pole?" Caitlin asked with a chuckle.

Xander grinned widely, "Get paid to work out, obviously. If I can stay in shape while people throw money at me, I win."

Ben laughed, but Caitlin shook her head, "That doesn't bother you? The idea of getting paid to be somebody's sex object?"

"Nah," Xander answered, "Hell, I'd do that for free."

"What about self-respect?" she asked.

"He doesn't have any," Ben answered.

"I have self-respect," Xander argued, "What I don't have is poor body image, or insecurities. So, I can get naked, I don't even care, no big deal. It's the rest of the world that's got hang-ups."

"Double daddy-issues?" Caitlin suggested.

Xander scoffed, "No way. They had to pay extra to get me, I'm the do-over kid. You wound up with the scapegoat."

Ben had taken a deep breath to answer him, but Xander's phone suddenly chimed with a text, and he hauled himself out of the chair, "Jack?"

"Yep. Later."

"You guys never talk to me anymore. What the hell?" Ben complained.

Xander stopped in his tracks and pointed to Caitlin, "Dude, she can come, but she's gonna be bored."

"How do you know? I don't even know what you're doing."

"Because she was bored last time," Xander clarified, "And if we wind up shooting off a rocket or something, we'll go right past you to get her involved, but I promise, she'd be bored, and you'd leave early anyway."

"Have fun with your rulers, Xander," Caitlin said sweetly.

Xander flipped her off as he started for the door once more, making her laugh. Ben was glad to hear it, and if he was being honest with himself, he'd have complained less about the distance he'd been experiencing from Xander and Jack, as he would have had no intention of leaving Caitlin, and Caitlin hadn't had any interest in going anywhere since her father had left. She'd made it to her classes that morning, and he'd taken her to the grocery store afterward, but for the most part, she was still alternating between incredibly emotional, and numb.

The front door closed softly, but it was audible as it was the only sound in the house.

"I think I heard a coyote last night," Caitlin muttered.

Ben tightened his arm around her slightly, "I can borrow a handgun to keep here, if you know how to use it."

Caitlin shook her head, "As long as they're outside, I'm good."

"What if there's one in the driveway, though?"

"I'm okay, I don't need one, all I said was I think I heard one howling."

Ben shrugged, "Okay, what about a bat?"

"A bat?"

"Baseball bat... You're all alone out here, what if something happened?"

"I'm fine," Caitlin answered, "Statistically speaking, anyway, you're a lot more likely to kill me than some coyote."

"I hate it when you do that," Ben whined, "You know me, okay? I don't need to have that thrown at me like I'm some animal incapable of intelligent thought-"

"It's numbers," Caitlin cut him off, "I'm safe here, calm down."

Stewing somewhat, but unwilling to risk her feelings with an argument, Ben turned his head to stare out the window. Stifling the urge to take his phone from his pocket, he shifted slightly, "Do you want to play a cards, or something?"

"What was your mom like?" Caitlin asked quietly.

"That was kinda out of the blue."

"I haven't asked since you told me about waiting with her for your dad to get home, I wasn't sure if it was too much to talk about, but since you mentioned her to my dad, I just thought, maybe it's not?"

Ben nodded, "Uh, well... She was cool... Kind of strict, but not mean about it... Kind of hurts to say it, but, it was a long time ago, I was eight, I don't remember a whole lot."

"But what you do, it's good, right?"

"Yeah, totally. She and my dad were real close, and when she was sick, he took really good care of her, and taught me how to do the laundry, run the dishwasher, and we made stuff easier on her... I remember one time they thought I was asleep, and she was crying because she didn't think I should be doing that much of the chores, and my dad," Ben paused, wiping away an unexpected tear as the memory of his mother's sobs came back, "He, um... He said, 'Lisa, you gotta fight this thing your way, because we can't. But you gotta let us help you where we can. I'd do all of this myself, but he's not complaining, because he needs this, too.' And he was right, as long as it was helping mom, we kept the house spotless, kind of gave me something I felt like I could do... And actually, I dunno if dad really thought about it, but with the house so clean, and laundry always done, probably helped with the whole weakened immune system thing."

"Because of the chemo?"

"Yeah," Ben said, pulling his phone from his pocket, "Pops scanned some pictures of her for me, and a couple years ago, Alfie touched up this one. It had gotten really damaged in the bottom of a box. He was trying to show me how to use the software, but I couldn't get the hang of it."

Taking his phone, Caitlin looked closely at the manipulated photograph, "She almost looks like Esmeralda, with that scarf."

"Yeah, she does... She was just starting to lose a few patches then, but she didn't want to cut it short until there was a lot of it gone. She was hoping enough would stay that she could just wear hats, I guess some people don't lose their hair, or don't lose all of it," Ben explained.

"Explains why you're so much darker than your dad, though."

Ben took the phone as she handed it back to him, and put it away, "Any particular reason you wanted to know about her?"

"My mom called me last night... She was dropping hints left and right, and just when I caught on and was going to tell her I was busy, she said we should get official about it... I yelled at her."

"Official?"

Caitlin shrugged, "She tried to use the used chewing gum analogy, I told her she was an idiot."

Ben let out a low whistle, "You don't mince words, do you?"

"I don't have to swear to be direct."

"I guess not," Ben agreed.

"Anyway, I told her it was an archaic social construct, that it's offensive to measure my worth as a person by a lack of sexual experience, I'm not 'damaged goods,' and that if she actually spoke to any men my age, she'd find out pretty quick that past partners aren't a deal-breaker unless the guy is a worthless excuse for a human being. Then, as if it weren't bad enough, she asked 'how do you know?' Stupidest thing ever... And nobody cares if a guy's not a virgin, it's such bullshit."

"Did you tell her I was damaged goods?" Ben asked.

"It's not my place to tell anyone how damaged your goods are... But that doesn't bother me, I kind of just think about it like, you got some practice out of the way."

"Do you ever wish you got more practice?" Ben asked softly, "Like with somebody other than me? Just so you'd know?"

"Honestly? Or is this one of those ego questions?"

"Honestly," Ben chuckled.

"At first, I wondered, but then I realized that there probably isn't that much variation, and it's rare enough that I feel this safe and open with you, so chances are, I'd have less fun with somebody else."

"Was that the only reason?"

"No. By that point I was too attached to you to want to risk hurting your feelings running around on you like that."

Ben nodded, "Way to avoid the L-word, Spock."

She turned slightly to look at him, "Oh, crap. Did I just do the thing again?"

"No," Ben chuckled, "I'm just teasing, I swear."

"I'm sorry-"

"Don't... Don't do that, don't apologize," Ben reassured her, "You're doing that thing where your brain is going too fast for your mouth. It's a hell of a lot cuter than girls who try to be cute by acting stupid."

"Yeah, but-"

Ben shook his head, "How's the cramps?"

"I'm okay," Caitlin said softly.

Ben leaned in the few remaining inches and kissed her, "You want to walk around a little? I still haven't gotten a look at the barn."

* * *


	29. Chapter 29

* * *

Kevin glared over the counter as he went to the front of the salon to collect his next client, only to find his best friend standing in front of him.

"Well," Alfie shrugged, feeling the intense cold of Kevin's stare, "If you'd pick up your phone, I wouldn't bug you at work."

"Get your ass in the back," Kevin grumbled in a muffled hiss, catching Alfie by the sleeve and half-dragging him toward the back room.

"As long as nothing's getting waxed," Alfie protested lightly.

Pushing Alfie past a curtain into what turned out to be - to Alfie's surprise - an area actually set up for waxing, Kevin followed him in, keeping his voice low, "Why are you back?"

"Claire called and told me to come. Melody's getting tubes in her ears, not to mention she's miserable, and Claire's exhausted."

"If I hear it any other way from Claire-"

"You won't," Alfie said firmly, "I'd never harass her, just you."

"And why me?"

"I need a third-party to bounce something off of. It's important," Alfie answered, "Be pissed off at me if you need to, but I need to figure this out."

"Okay," Kevin huffed.

"Claire has been through hell the last few days, I don't think she's been getting more than an hour or two a night, if that. She said my dad came to see her, which, after I thought about it, seems like it'd be damn near impossible."

"Why would she lie?" Kevin asked quickly.

"She wouldn't. Not with what she said that he said to her. But you stack up all the stress and bullshit, add in the insomnia and Mel keeping her awake, it seems even less possible-"

"If you call her crazy after the crap that went down, I will bitch-slap you out of here so fast-"

"Anybody can have a mental breakdown, okay? Anyone... I checked the security cameras that face the house. The only time I could see anyone come to the house anywhere near that time, it was Ben. The time when she said my dad stopped by, the lights weren't on, it was dark already, but there's no cars. You'd see the lights from a car, unless they parked on the side of the highway and walked over... All you see is the light from the front door opening, a little bit of a shadow that could have just been her, just," Alfie made a flustered gesture, "With the thing that she's saying he said to her, I really have to know that this wasn't some hallucination or dream, I have to be completely sure."

Kevin nodded, "Okay, first, I want to record it when you inform her that you've questioned her sanity-"

"You had to talk me down after Bobby died, Kev! I can't trust her mind, or anyone else's when I've seen what my own can do."

"Was Melody awake for it?"

Alfie looked confused, "Melody? ...Claire did say he held her... But she's been running a fever, and she can barely talk-"

"They can't both hallucinate the same thing. If you're so worried about a lack of sleep, Melody naps really easy, and she doesn't like strangers, she'd notice somebody different picking her up."

Alfie ran a hand across the back of his neck, "How the hell do I ask her?"

"You mean, 'how the hell do you ask her without letting Claire hear you?' Oh, and make sure you aren't accidentally giving her the answer," Kevin replied, "How many people in your wedding photos can she name? You said Ben came by, try that. Show her the pictures, get her pointing to everybody she knows, and ask who came over while you were on your trip. If you're right, you have Ben as a control subject, and if she points to your dad, too, then you'd know for sure."

Nodding, Alfie seemed relieved, "This is exactly the advice I needed. And I could have used it earlier while Claire was asleep if you'd picked up the damn phone."

"I'm still mad at you."

"What the hell do you want me to do?" Alfie asked, "I didn't start this, I'm trying to keep a handle on everything going on, and, yeah, I get Claire was scared and you helped her, but seriously, all I want is to keep her and Melody safe and get back to normal."

"There is no 'normal' with you, dumbass! You exist to shake things up."

Taken aback, Alfie was still working his mind around Kevin's words when it became apparent that Kevin had confused himself, "Wait, that's you, right?"

"Yeah, actually, I think so. You're supposed to be the stabilizing one."

"I'm trying to be," Alfie said.

"Fine. Get out of here and go stabilize something, I have clients."

"But, when are we going to hash this out?" Alfie asked quickly as Kevin started pushing him back out of the small room onto the main floor of the salon.

"Are you serious?" Kevin asked, "Get the fuck out."

"Please, Kevin? We just need to talk it through. You know damn well I was trying to take care of everybody in this."

"You told my mom. You didn't tell me. You put her at risk."

"I was nineteen! You were busy having a baby! I literally told her while you were in the delivery room! I told her because she's the closest thing to an actual parent I've ever had! And she made it really clear I shouldn't tell anyone, so forgive me for trusting her judgment!" Alfie snapped, turning on his heel to march through the salon.

A sharp yank on his arm spun his thin frame around, and Kevin pulled him into a tight hug, "Chill. I'm still pissed at you, we'll talk for real later."

Alfie nodded, slapping Kevin on the back twice, firmly, "Okay."

Kevin let go of him, and Alfie walked out with slightly less anger than he'd displayed a moment before. He went back to the front desk and met his next client, leading the older gentleman to his station.

"What can I do for you today, sir?" Kevin asked.

"Well, my wife is getting her nails done anyway, thought I'd see if I could save some time with a haircut, and the lady at the front said you had a walk-in appointment I could have," he answered, "You do men's hair, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"Now, uh, I mean, classic type of men's haircuts?"

Kevin blinked, "Oh. You're worried you're going to look... No, no, trust me, if you don't want to look metro, or flashy or anything, you won't. I can make it as butch as Clint Eastwood. Just take it down about a quarter inch from where it is? Or shorter?"

"Uh, normally I get a two on the bottom, going up to a five on the top, part on the left."

"Perfect," Kevin replied, "Maybe I missed my calling. Some of the ladies come in here, start talking about chunky-but-not-chunky highlights, and they want red, but 'not that red,' and we have to plan it out for an hour before I can even get started."

"Women," the man chuckled, "If it weren't for your line of work, though, you wouldn't have much issue with them, I suppose."

"Huh? ...Oh, no, that guy that was just here? Best friend, not boyfriend. We get that a lot for some reason, but we're just really close."

"Son," he said kindly, "You haven't changed much, but I don't think I would've recognized you from the car repair place if he hadn't come in. I was there when Singer kicked that guy out, and then yelled at you two for, uh... Acting up. I mean, who would look at you two and think you're straight?"

"Um... His wife? My girlfriend? Literally all of our family who actually know us, I mean-"

"All right, okay, just, in this day and age, no reason for anybody to have to hide who they care about."

Kevin shook his head, "I swear to god, you hump a guy's ass in public one time, and take up hairdressing, and everybody thinks you're gay... It doesn't work like that."

"Gotta say, though, that was the funniest damn thing I think I ever saw."

"Hell yeah, it was," Kevin answered with a smirk.

* * *

Dean grumbled as he answered his phone, getting up from the floor of the shop, spotting Xander's information on the screen, "Hey, what's going on?"

" _Hi Dad... My truck won't start, just getting a grinding noise._ "

"Okay, where're you at?"

" _I'm at, um... There's a place next door to the old-folks home, it's near the hospital._ "

Dean thought carefully, having driven past it several times. He could easily recall the building, but not the words on the sign out front, "The one with the butterfly sign?"

" _That's the one,_ " Xander answered.

"Okay, I'll be there in a minute."

Ending the call, he went into the front office and found Randy at the computer. It was past closing and he knew Randy was stuck on data-entry for paperwork Claire had been through several times, and would have been done far sooner had she handled the typing herself.

"I gotta bring in Xander's truck, he broke down. You good?" Dean asked.

"Do I get a raise?" Randy asked, not looking up from the screen.

"I'll ask Claire about it. If we can work it into the budget, yeah. Did you have a certain amount in mind?"

Randy sat back in his chair, "You remember when Claire said you stalled?"

Dean thought carefully, and the only possible occurrence came to mind, "Yeah, I think so."

"And you told her she was wrong and had no idea what she was talking about?"

Dean nodded, "That was a bad week. We got past it."

"She said you can't get more customers unless you can serve them. You can't employ more people to serve them unless you have space for them to work. You can't expand at your current location, and so you're stalled. No growth. The town is getting bigger, because stuff is coming in near Bridgeway, and the folks who can't afford to live there and work there are moving here and commuting. The town is growing in ways that haven't happened in over fifty years, and you're the one who told her that we didn't need a second location."

"What's your point?"

"You're old."

"Excuse me?" Dean asked.

"You're a grandfather, you and Cas need to get ready for your retirement, you got, maybe, twenty working years left, if you want to keep working that long, and Cas is older than you. You should be putting stuff in place to fall back on, in case social security doesn't cut it, because in ten years, I dunno, moving to Florida, senior cruises, whatever, but in the meantime, you took the workhorse you're gonna leave your kids, and against the advice of the one person who could run this place alone, you shot it in the leg.

"She's struggling to keep this place from losing business while people are starting to go elsewhere because we're always overbooked. We drive too many people away, they stay gone. If you don't expand, you fail. She needs that second shop, or this place is going under, and she can't run both locations by herself. Not yet. Now is your best time to help her get a new one up and running, and figure out running both while she's still got you to lean on when she's got a problem at both locations, until she can train the people under her to do what she needs done, before you're too tired to do it."

"Do you like your job, Randy?" Dean asked with poison in his voice.

"Yeah, I love working here."

"You think you can run the place, make big decisions like that?"

Randy shrugged and adjusted his glasses, "I'm a drop-out, like you. I didn't get my GED like you did, you know that. But I'm not an idiot. Claire is taking up your slack, _and_ cleaning up your mess, and she's gonna run the hell out of this place when it's her time. Sorry to come out and say it like this, Dean, but I'd back her over you."

Dean nodded, "Well, you've made some good points. I guess I'll talk to her about it, if she says she can do it without leaning on Alfie for the money, maybe it'll happen. But if it does, you're going to the new place, because you just pissed me off."

* * *

Alfie sat quietly on the couch with Melody on his lap, gently rubbing a circle into the flesh behind her ear in the hopes the motion would encourage it to drain. Claire had caught up on a few things that had been set aside while he'd been gone. He'd tried to help, but Melody had been adamant in refusing to let him leave the couch.

Hearing the shower start upstairs, he shifted to lift her as he stood, and pulled a large printed photo book from the entertainment center below the television.

"Whuh-sat?" Melody asked.

"Family pictures."

"Mine?"

"You're not in this one, Melly, it's from when me and Mama got married."

Sitting down, he opened the book on his lap as Melody rolled slightly to his side, curious to see the photographs as she stuck a finger in one of her sore ears. Alfie was thankful it wasn't taking much to get her attention, and it seemed as though he'd have an easy enough time playing it off as innocent should Claire come downstairs before he had his answer.

The first one he came to was a photo of himself and Claire, "She wore a very pretty dress that day... She always looks beautiful in a dress, but this one was special... She put it away in a special box in case you want it when you're older, but if you want a different one, that's okay, too... Much older... Like, thirty, forty..."

Melody reached to turn the page, and Alfie silently tried to remember if they still had the ability to order a reprint in case she tore the paper. There were several artistic black and white photos of the empty venue and the decor, one of Claire's bouquet, carefully hiding one of her nails where the press-on had gone missing, and opposite it was a close-up of his boutonniere and tie.

Finally, he came to several familiar faces, and pointed to them one at a time, and Melody began doing the same. He was surprised by the lack of prompting required to garner the responses he felt he needed.

"Zanner... Ben... Pop-pop."

"That's right. Who's that?" Alfie asked.

"Hampa-Dee."

"Right, Grandpa Dean. Who's that?"

Melody paused to point to a centerpiece of flowers before following his finger, "Unc' Kevin."

"Yeah, Uncle Kevin. I saw him today. Who's that?"

"Mama."

"You'd know her anywhere, I'm sure. What about this guy?" Alfie asked, pointing to one of Cas speaking to his cousin, Gabe.

"Pop-pop... No."

"Okay, you don't know him, who's that?" Alfie pointed to a photo of himself.

"Daddy."

"Yeah, that's me," he turned the page, "Pretty much everybody was there."

"Lu-sis."

"What?" Alfie asked, as a chill washed through him. He started scouring the page, far busier with faces, but Melody pointed straight to his father's face in a photo nearest to her.

"Hampa Lu-sis, Daddy."

Alfie quickly considered the frequency with which his father was mentioned in the home, and how Melody had declined to attempt to identify Gabe, who she'd seen while visiting Cas' office with him only three months prior, and had given her a piece of chocolate.

"Did Uncle Ben come over while I was on my trip?"

Melody pointed to the photo again.

"Grandpa Lucius was here, too?"

"Yeah."

"Oh... Well, that's nice you got to see him," Alfie pretended to muse, turning the page to a shot of Claire and Margaret in the room where she'd gotten ready, laughing uproariously over a spilled pile of cosmetics that had somehow come to contain a spark-plug.

"Mama story?" Melody asked.

Alfie shrugged, "Once upon a time, Mama was a little girl named Claire. That's Mama's name, by the way... She wasn't a princess, but she was very special. One day a monster came to her house, and put a curse on her. Her mommy didn't help her, so she called Pop-pop, because Pop-pop is her daddy, and Pop-pop came and took her far, far away, to his house. But Pop-pop didn't know about the curse, Mama kept that part a secret. It made her have scary dreams. Then one day, she went to get a job working for her neighbor, and she found this jackass in a chair. Her friend Kevin told her to go to prom with the hobbled jackass, and she was so strong, and pretty, the jackass figured he had no chance, but he went along with it. Then, right after the jackass kissed her, she knocked some guy on his butt with one punch. I saw it on the cameras later. Anyway, turns out she liked the jackass, a lot more than she was admitting. Pop-pop found out about the curse and Grandpa Dean said to take Mama to a, uh, a wizard, and the wizard couldn't get rid of the whole curse, but it was mostly gone. Then her mommy came to see her, but it was a trick, it wasn't really her mommy, it was an evil witch... It was complicated, right then... She tricked the witch, though, by punching somebody so she'd get taken to the dungeon and put in a cage with iron bars that the witch couldn't get open, and then the sheriff found out about the witch and let Mama go home with Pop-pop. And the jackass got out of the chair, and they fell in love, and lived happily ever after."

"Daddy djackass?" Melody asked, looking up at him.

"Um, yes. But not always."

Melody pointed to a full-length portrait that showed the length of Claire's train and veil, "Mama pwincess now?"

"Of course she is. I can't believe I skipped that part. But don't let that fool you, punkin, she is so much cooler than just a princess. She's got superpowers, and she's extra smart. She doesn't care about the princess thing because she's better than that."

"I have superpowers?" Claire called from the top of the stairs, her hair still damp, "What are you telling her?"

"She wanted a story. I was looking at the wedding album, and she asked."

Melody stood up on the couch next to him, looking for Claire as she came down, "Daddy djackass!"

"Oh, new word. Great. I see it's only for one person, though," Claire said with a smirk, "But you can't tell me she picked it up from Grandpa, because he's had a lot longer to practice not swearing in front of kids."

"Compared to other things she says-"

"Don't start with me right now, I promise you don't want to go there," Claire said, cutting him off.

Alfie shrugged, "I'm sure it's been hard, just-"

"There was a snake. It was in her sandbox, maybe even at the same time she was. It bit the rake while I was holding it. That's how she learned the new word, okay?"

Alfie nodded, turning to Melody, "Mama fights snakes?"

"Fnake, Daddy."

"Told you she was tough."

* * *

"Meals on Wheels?" Dean asked, "That's what's got you acting all weird lately?"

"Lately?" Xander asked with a scoff, "It's not just that, I, um... I help out with the stuff people need around the house, the stuff that helps them stay out of the nursing home longer, fix a leaky faucet or whatever, put some weather stripping on a window."

"Is this some kind of community service? Did you get into some trouble, and forget to tell me?" Dean asked, watching Xander's face carefully.

"If you're looking for that tell, wrong kid. And no, I didn't get into trouble, god, I'm just helping out somewhere people need it."

Dean gestured to the sign by the road, "This place is a hospice. You think that's gonna be healthy when you deal with-"

"And they don't have a lot of dying people, so they run some of the local volunteer services out of it. I don't hang out with the dying folks. The chaplain is pretty cool, though."

"Xander, what the hell is going on with you?"

He shrugged, "Honestly? I should have dropped football and picked this up a lot sooner. Not that the occasional game at the park with the guys isn't fun, but, I can do this a couple days a week without pushing myself, and it's a huge thing for the people I go see. I used to have people telling me all the time how great I was for playing a damn sport, but now I'm doing something that makes a real difference, a huge difference to the people involved, and I'm actually feeling better about all the crap I can't do than when I was kicking ass on the field and putting everything I had into trying to win some stupid game."

Dean cast a glance over the nearly empty parking lot and the similarly empty building, and shook his head, "Why would you hide this if it was voluntary?"

Xander scoffed and shook his head, "There's nothing to hide. Ben's busy with his whole dead-baby thing, or whatever, Claire's kicking her husband out, I'm just changing light bulbs for some old guy who can barely get out of his chair, and driving some old lady to the store for an electric can opener so she can feed her cat. You and Pops are busy."

"Yeah, I guess you got a-wait... Claire what?"

"Pops didn't tell you? Ben told me, and he said Claire said Pops knew... I guess he didn't tell you..."

Dean took a deep breath and let it out slowly, "Okay, you know any details on this?"

"No. Just kind of staying out of the way, but Ben said she said no kicking his ass."

With a nod, Dean waved to the passenger side of the wrecker, and Xander scurried along to get inside.

* * *

Finally slipping away from the couch as Melody had fallen asleep, Alfie opened the front door quietly, not entirely surprised to find Dean, with one of the hardest looks he thought he'd ever received from the other man. Putting a finger to his lips to silently ask he stay quiet, Alfie stepped back, pointing carelessly toward the kitchen table.

Dean made his way through the small house as noiselessly as his work boots would allow him, and found Claire with her attention buried in a supplier's contract.

Claire seemed slightly surprised to see him, but didn't say anything. Dean jerked his head toward the back door, and Claire nodded, following as he stepped out onto the back porch. Closing the door softly behind her, she noticed he'd gone down the steps, "What's going on?"

"Let's go for a walk," Dean said quietly.

"I've got shit to do."

"Last I checked, I'm still the boss, and your dad, so c'mon," Dean replied, beckoning.

Annoyed, Claire left the porch and followed him, "Is this about the snake?"

"I've had two weird, and completely unrelated conversations in the last couple of hours, and both of them had to do with you. Why do you think that is?" Dean asked as they left the small shady area around the back of the house where the unwatered grass wasn't too beaten by the sun to grow, and started into the stacks.

Claire shrugged, "I'm popular?"

"Randy's saying the shop is gonna cave if we don't get a second location, and Xander said you're kicking Alfie out."

She nodded, "Randy's telling you what I told you six months ago-"

"Eight. It was eight months ago."

"And Xander has it backwards. I already kicked Alfie out, and he's back."

"And I'm just completely out of the loop, here?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, I guess so. Did you want my entire skincare routine step by step, and the date of my last period, too?"

"Don't get smart with me," Dean argued, "I mean, I've got stuff going on, yeah, some really crazy crap, but don't think for one second that I don't have time for you, all three of you. Now what the hell happened over here?"

"Ask Dad, I'm busy," Claire huffed.

"Well, I guess he's busy, too, because he hasn't said a word, so how about you come out with it, get all this out of the way? Don't tell me I wasted a trip. I mean, I could drag his ass out here and get it out of him."

"You go anywhere near him, and I'll-"

Dean scoffed, "Hey, you might have an age advantage, but I can still take you."

"I'll quit... I don't have to kick your ass you ruin your life."

Taking a long, hard look at her face, Dean could spot traces of stress that went past an only recently remedied lack of sleep. She was tired, scared, and she hadn't been eating well, he'd seen her like this before. Life was wearing on her, and he wondered if there was a comparison of the chicken and egg argument in her stress at work, and her stress at home.

"Claire, I know you, both of you, so if you kicked him out, there's a hell of a lot more than a misunderstanding going on."

"Dad knows exactly what's going on and he's still alive. That's not proof enough for you?"

Dean turned, casting a suspicious look toward the smaller house, "Cas has his own way of doing things, but-"

"You respect me less, and you like to meddle?" Claire guessed.

"You say the word, kid, and I'll kick his ass. Did he cheat on you?"

"No. He folds towels wrong, and forgot to pick up his socks," Claire answered sarcastically, "Something illegal happened with one of his family members, and we had a fight about it. That's it. And it's none of your business. Okay?"

"Phhhht. None of my business, my kid is involved. You agreed to that part, remember?" Dean asked with an arrogant tone, "Sort this crap out, I want to take another look at expanding, I can't do that with you on the bench. One thing, though, I want the whole thing done on the shop's books, no help from that silver-spoon jackass, got it?"

"Got it."

"And make him cook something, or I'm sending Cas back over here with a real meal and instructions to make sure you eat it," he groused.

"You know you're setting yourself up to be treated the same way, right? Hounding you about all kinds of crap?"

"If I looked like you look right now, I'd sure as hell hope so."

"Thanks, asshole," Claire replied, "Melody's getting tubes in her ears tomorrow, so you're gonna get off my ass about, just, everything, okay?"

Dean nodded, and gave her a pat on the shoulder, "It's good we can have these talks. So, what was that thing about a snake?"

"Oh, just, it was in Melody's sandbox, and I could have sworn the damn thing had a rattle, but Blake came over to get it out of here, nothing. It was just a rat snake. I was about to shoot it."

"So stressed out you're seeing danger where there isn't any? That's not good."

"I'll live," she countered, "So, Ben came by, told me what was going on with him."

"You tell him about when you were dealing with the same thing?"

"God, no, that's my business."

"I might've guessed," Dean replied. They'd circled back around, closing the distance back to the house, and Dean gave her a quick hug, "Get some rest, okay? Call if you need to."

"When do you want to get into this about expanding?" Claire asked.

Dean shrugged, "I don't want to get into any of that until you're back at the top of your game. If we're gonna take a risk this big, we're gonna wait and make sure we do this right. Also, I want you and Randy running the new place."

"Why?"

"Reasons," Dean grumbled cryptically.

* * *


	30. Chapter 30

* * *

Alfie watched in silence as Claire paced off an overabundance of nervous energy, certain she'd eventually wear a path in the carpet. When she eventually sat down next to him, he realized she was picking at a callous on the side of one of her fingers, and the soft skin around it was turning raw. Firmly, he reached halfway across her lap and took the hand nearest him.

He met the irate look he'd been expecting with a loving gaze, "I promise, she's fine."

"You don't know, you're not in there."

Alfie squeezed her hand, "It's just a few minutes, then she'll start waking up, and we'll go sit with her."

"If this, and you magnify it by a hundred, is anything like what my dad went through when I almost bled to death, I owe him a huge apology. This sucks."

"You didn't do that on purpose."

"It still sucks... How are you not freaking out?" Claire asked quietly.

Alfie shook his head, "Because you're doing it for me. So, I guess it's my turn to just hang out and be supportive as much as possible, because you did that when I threw that laptop out the window."

"Yeah, that was weird..."

Alfie squeezed her hand again, "When you settle down, you'll remember you've got this."

Claire shook her head, "No. No, I don't 'got this.' I plow through things like this because I have to, I don't have a choice. Curling into a ball in the corner and being useless just isn't an option... I can't believe you weren't going to be here."

"I knew you could handle it."

"Well, just because I can doesn't mean I want to."

"Yeah, but at the same time, you don't need me here."

Claire pulled her hand away from his, "Okay, that might be true, maybe I could deal with this crap on my own, but I don't want to. And yeah, I have just, I dunno, everybody, who would come and sit with me and tell me how I've 'got this,' but I don't want that. I'm not doing this crap alone again, okay? I need you here."

"You don't need me."

"Yeah, I do. Anybody else tries to support me, and that support is there, but I don't want it. It's a lot easier to accept it from you."

"So, you want me to stick around? Because, just to remind you, you're the one who told me to go in the first place, I didn't run out-"

"I know what I said."

Alfie smirked, "Okay. I'm with you. Whatever you need... But, next time, if there is a next time, I'm going to remind you of this conversation. I'm not going to beg you let me hang around, but, you know, if you just write it down somewhere that you don't want me gone, it would help."

"One of these days, you're going to stand up to me."

"No, ma'am... Anybody but you."

A nurse came to the doorway of the waiting area, gathering the attention of nearly every person in the waiting room, "Mr and Mrs Novak?"

Claire rose to her feet and Alfie followed after her, shouldering Melody's diaper bag.

"Everything's fine," the nurse told them as they reached her, "It went as expected, no surprises, and we're ready to take you back so she doesn't have to look for you when she wakes up."

Alfie nodded, "That'll keep her from throwing punches."

The nurse stifled a chuckle with a nod toward Claire, "Yes, well, the EMT lived to tell the tale. Sorry, but we've all been warned."

Shortly they were left alone in a recovery room, where Melody lay unconscious, breathing easily, carefully tucked into a railed child-sized bed. A small pink bandage on her arm was the only sign she hadn't simply taken a nap.

"Maybe we should pick her up," Claire whispered.

"She's okay. We're right here-"

"Yeah, but she was freaking out with the gas when they knocked her out-"

Alfie embraced her gently, rubbing her back as he did, "'What if, what if, what if,' that's not helping anybody. Getting yourself calm before she wakes up, however, will at least mean if she freaks out, it's not both of you at the same time."

"I'm not freaking out!" Claire insisted, receiving only a skeptical look from him, "Okay, fine, I am. But I can fake it that I'm not."

Swaying her gently, Alfie eased into the question, "Am I helping with that?"

"Maybe," she replied grudgingly.

* * *

Xander reached into the plates cabinet to begin setting the table as Cas called over from the stove, "Just the three of us, Ben's having dinner at Caitlin's."

"Yeah, I bet that's all they're doing," Xander commented.

"Well, obviously, she couldn't have become pregnant on her own. Of course, if you need to comment on it instead of minding your own business, maybe next you'd like to comment on the fact that Dean and I share a room?"

Xander shook his head quickly, "Nope. No, nobody wants to talk about that. Forget I said anything."

The usual evening shuffle, less Ben, settled into a run-of-the-mill dinner once Dean had arrived home, although there was something tight in his expression that Cas didn't like. He had a thin red welt along his neck from his jaw next to his ear that ran nearly to his collarbone, and the surrounding skin was swollen and a dark shade of pink was developing. It had broken skin in a few places, and when asked, Dean said a fan belt on a running engine at the shop had snapped, striking him in the neck. Despite the wound having been cleaned, there were obvious droplets of blood on his shirt and collar, and Cas could help but glance at it over the table occasionally as they ate.

"So, Xander," Dean asked between bites of food, "Are you gonna tell Cas what you've been sneaking around over lately?"

Cas wasn't sure if it was an intentional diversion on Dean's part, but it was effective none the less. He turned to Xander, "What does he mean?"

"Well, Jack dragged me out to this charity and volunteering thing a while back, and talked me into doing this thing where you go visit old people and take 'em food, or whatever, since I was done with football, and had the time," Xander explained, "It's no big deal."

Cas shrugged, "Volunteering isn't 'no big deal,' you're giving up personal free time to serve your community without compensation. That's a big deal."

"And we're proud of you," Dean added awkwardly, "Really proud. It's, um... It's good stuff that you're doing."

"Yes," Cas agreed, shooting a concerned look at Dean which Dean didn't catch, "We're very proud of you."

"Great... I hope you guys can hang onto that proud feeling for a second, because, um, I dropped out of college."

Xander's words brought a silence over the table as the dishes stilled. The announcement had been expected for some time, almost before he'd been accepted in the first place, and Dean had been the one to push the hardest for Xander to enroll. As such, Cas was half expecting something of a blow-up between the two, and steeled himself to calm Dean.

Dean nodded slowly, "Okay... Well... You, um, you got your high school diploma, and a couple months of courses, so at least you can say you got in."

"You're not pissed?" Xander asked.

Dean shook his head, and skewered a piece of meat with his fork, "Nope... We love you, and we're proud of you... Are you looking at jobs?"

Xander's voice took on an air of caution, as though he'd just poked a sleeping bear, and the bear had turned to look at him, undecided on whether to get up or go back to sleep, "I ran into Ivan, he wants me to come help with equipment on his next tour. I'm killing time until then, that's what the volunteering stuff is about... I'm going give that a try, but I think, if that's not my thing, I'll probably want to live around town, find a local job... Dad, are you okay? You're acting weird."

Stuffing another bite into his mouth, Dean shook his head, "I'm fine. You, though, you've got to plan this stuff carefully, read up on safety while you're traveling and all of that. We're going to need people once Claire and I get this second shop open, and I'm gonna bet you'll be back before that happens if you want in at one or the other full time. Unless, you know, running around all over the country is what makes you happy."

* * *

_Dean had closed the driver's door after the coupe had finally started, coming to stand by the grill, listening intently for the strange sounds the owner had complained about._

_Reaching close to the dash below the hood, he'd been adjusting some tubing and wires, checking to see that the usual vibration of the running motor wasn't causing an innocent tapping to be mistaken for a rattle, but he couldn't spot anything in particular to cause the mystery noise._

_Standing up to check below the car, he had no more warning than a quick thud, and something long and black in a loop came flying toward his face. It stung sharply where it struck his neck, and he staggered backward several steps in surprise._

_Claire was running toward him, loudly calling for Randy... The next thing Dean was aware of, he was sitting on the floor with his back to the tall toolbox drawers, Randy had pulled his hand away from his neck, as Claire hadn't been able to budge his arm, and she was pressing one of the heavy-duty disposable towels from the garage sink to his neck._

* * *

Cas made his way to the bedroom after cleaning up from dinner, easily recognizing Dean's shaken state. He found Dean stretched out on his back sideways across the foot of the bed, his feet still on the floor at the side of it, and closed the door softly behind him.

"I would have thought you'd be out of the shower by now. Instead, you're getting dirt in the bedspread," Cas said quietly, moving closer.

"Yeah, well, if that's not enough for you, I can roll around in some mud," Dean offered sarcastically.

"Tell me what's going on, Dean. I don't have the energy to drag it out of you today."

Dean nodded slightly, still staring at the ceiling, "The chunk of that belt that hit me... I only knew I was bleeding out of my neck. Couldn't see how bad it was, and well, for about two seconds there, I thought, y'know, that's it. I'm done... And all I could think was, I didn't kiss you this morning."

"You've had a rough day, Dean, you-"

"You were shaving so you could give that talk to the kids about professional appearances, and I didn't want to get shaving cream in my mouth, and I just skipped it. The stupidest shit ever, worst possible decision, and that's the choice I made."

"Dean-"

"Couldn't hold your hand, either, not with you at least three miles away," Dean fussed.

Cas slipped a knee between both of Dean's, as Dean reached for his hands, lacing their fingers. Leaning over him, Cas pinned Dean's hands to the bed just above his head, and kissed him softly. He let go of one of Dean's hands to brace himself on the footboard before kissing him a second time, playing at his lips gently, and giving Dean every opportunity to become more insistent or press things further, but it seemed Dean was content to be completely compliant. He raised himself slightly, taking his hand from the footboard to tilt Dean's chin up and get a better look, "I take it the darker smears are from the rubber of the belt that snapped?"

Dean nodded, "Probably. I haven't really looked at it since one of the kids said it didn't need stitches."

"Go get cleaned up. If you need to bandage it, I'll-"

Cas was cut off abruptly as Dean's free hand, unnoticed, suddenly slid up the front of Cas' shirt, opening it rapidly with several pops in one smooth motion.

"You wore the one with snaps today," Dean commented quietly, "Are you gonna get in with me?"

"Now that I'm half dressed, I don't have much reason not to."

Cas ignored it as Dean's hand wandered his waist, and found firm purchase on the curve of his rear, even as he adjusted his footing.

"You know, I swore walking home, I was gonna tear your clothes off the minute I got in the door, but now that I've got you, I just want you close," Dean whispered.

With a nod Cas moved to get up, intending to let Dean up from the bed and follow him into the bath, only to find himself soon knocked over onto his back, with Dean's mouth on his own, but made no attempt to voice a complaint.

Pulling back, likely considering leaving the bed for the bath, Dean looked down and began to chuckle.

"What's so funny?" Cas asked softly.

"Gimme your shirt," Dean replied, pulling it from Cas' arms before he'd finished speaking, "I got blood on you, this needs to soak."

"I'm less worried about the shirt-"

"It took three years to get you into the damn thing, I'm not gonna risk letting the stain set," Dean replied, hurrying for the bathroom sink.

"But you're bleeding again," Cas protested, getting up from the side of the bed. He stopped in the doorway of the attached bathroom as Dean quickly plugged the sink and began running the water, digging into the cabinet below for a small container he kept on-hand. Cas waited patiently until he'd applied the chemicals to the water before stepping into the room and taking a washcloth from the counter, wetting it in the stream of running water from the tap, and gently dabbing at Dean's neck, "Are you sure you don't need stitches?"

Dean leaned toward the mirror, pressing at the skin next to the wound to check, "Nah, it's not too bad... I'll put up with some steri-strips, though, it'll keep it shut."

"Is that going to be enough?"

Turning back to face Cas, Dean was easily directed by Cas' hands, Dean met his eyes with sincerity, "I promise I'm okay. And I'm not going to push anything at all and make it worse. I'll even stick to the desk tomorrow, okay?"

"Nothing strenuous?"

"Nope," Dean replied, palming Cas' crotch gently, "We'll take things real easy, and-"

Cas took a firm grip on Dean's arm, pushing him away, "Shower, then bandages. Everything else can wait."

"Yeah, okay," Dean said softly, "If you think you can behave yourself."

Irritation got the better of Cas, and he pressed Dean toward the shower, "Go-"

"Okay! I'm going, god! Give a guy some time to get his boots off."

Cas kept his distance as Dean undressed, waiting by the sink under the guise of being ready to turn off the running water, and added the bloody washcloth to the basin. Getting into the hot spray, Dean continued to speak to him with the occasional comment, both of them aware without mentioning it that Cas had thought better of joining Dean.

"Hey, you remember when you told me about when it clicked? When you told Xander to drive, right before you tripped?... How'd you keep a clear head in that? Why didn't you panic?" Dean asked.

Cas shrugged, "I only figured out what was happening after he was in sight of the car. I suppose that helped, knowing I'd have help, and a reason to try to keep it together."

"Well, Claire was in the garage today, that didn't keep me from freaking out... I feel like an idiot now, though."

"Everyone handles things differently," Cas mused.

It wasn't long before Dean was out, toweled off, and patiently allowing Cas to apply the narrow plastic strips to his skin, although his actions had taken a more reserved tone. Stretching out on the bed next to Dean, Cas ran a hand through his hair, "You're all over the place tonight."

"Why don't we have a T.V. in here?"

Cas shook his head, "It was only an observation, you didn't have to-"

"I mean, it's too early to sleep, and I don't feel like putting on pants just to go downstairs."

"Dean-"

"Lots of folks have a T.V. where they can-"

"You're rattled. I understand. But you really don't-"

"Not that you aren't pretty damn entertaining-"

Cas rolled onto his side and pressed his palm to Dean's mouth, "Take some deep breaths and give me at least thirty seconds silence before you open your mouth again, please."

"I love you," Dean's reply was heavily muffled by Cas' hand, and despite the accompanying eye-roll, Cas responded in kind before settling next to him once more, resting against him.

He passed the time listening to Dean breathing and watching the rise and fall of his chest, wondering what thoughts might be passing through his head that his mouth had to move so quickly to help him ignore them. Having faced similar realities, however with a far less alarming quickness, he had some idea, "It wouldn't have bothered me... I just want you to know that."

"What?" Dean asked.

"Whatever regrets you're worried could have happened, deciding not to kiss me this morning, had you been more seriously injured, I wouldn't have questioned..."

Dean shook his head, "You can't be sure of that."

"I can. I'm well aware-"

"Don't start, I'm not gonna have a fight with you about this, not after today-"

"You can't tell me how to feel, Dean. I refuse to be disappointed over something this trivial."

"Trivial?"

"Yes, trivial!" Cas insisted, "As if one kiss could make or break a relationship with you! If you take nothing else away from this experience, maybe in the future you'll remember that we've spent every night in the same bed for years, and a little thing like shaving cream or a single act of affection declined is not about detract from that."

There was depth and desperation in Dean's eyes as he turned his head to meet Cas' gaze, "I'm sorry."

"It's all right. I've been there, Dean, I know-"

Dean leaned in and kissed him forcefully, rolling onto him a moment later, finding himself frustrated with Cas' belt, and dropping all his weight on his chest in order to tackle it with both hands. Cas raised his hips gracefully in time with Dean's hands to cooperate with the slacks being dragged down his legs, feeling the accidental scratch of one of Dean's nails on his hip and ignoring the pain. Recognizing his husband's clumsy and rushed behavior for what it was, he caught Dean by the back of the neck, kissing him hungrily before throwing his weight aside, and rolling onto his elbow to open the drawer of the nightstand. Cas turned back around before Dean had had time to sit up, and quickly straddled his hips.

"How did you want to-mm!" Dean breathed heavily through his nose, his breath coming in waves of near panting as Cas' tongue slipped inside, nipping his lips as Dean became aware of the sloppy mess of friction and weight of flesh where both their growing arousals were coming into play.

Cas shifted his weight upward as Dean attempted to force his unwilling mind to cooperate, all excess blood having left his brain, he was sure. Warm. Slick. Tight. Hard. Probing... Another brief glimpse of reality surfaced and he caught little more than love, lust, and piercing blue eyes.

Taking a deep breath as he sat up, sinking Dean further into him slowly, Cas set a hand in the center of Dean's chest, "Don't move."

Unwilling to trust his tongue to anything that wasn't tasting each inch of Cas' skin, he nodded. Cas reached back to the edge of the bed, setting down a bottle of lube, and picking up a small remote, giving a small groan of discomfort as he moved. Pressing a button as he leaned back down to Dean's chest, something stirred to life within him, making Dean purr with comfortable pleasure as he slowed his breathing, reaching for the sides of Cas' neck and face, kissing him softly as he came into range.

"I don't think we've tried this combination before. Not on me," Dean whispered as his body surrendered to the fluctuating waves of vibration.

Cas nodded slightly, his mind preoccupied as he made the smallest attempt to move, checking to see if he'd relaxed enough, "I was curious."

Finding himself still too tight for any comfortable motion, he adjusted his legs and pressed a button on the remote again, gaining a surprised whimper from Dean, "Oh, sonofabitch... Cas?"

"Shhh... Just hold out as long as you can, but don't push it. Honestly, I'd like to see where this takes you."

"But don't move?" Dean asked.

"We'll see," Cas replied, shifting again experimentally as he pressed the button once more, activating the highest setting on the plug. He could feel the vibrations coming through Dean's body. Leaning down, trapping himself between their stomachs, he found it easier to get a small amount of motion going at a grind, "How does it feel?"

"...C-close..." Dean whispered.

"Closer than the time-?"

Dean shook his head, forcing slowed breaths through his nose, "No, I mean it, I-..." Dean seemed to lose all willingness to speak, suddenly going limp before simultaneously clenching what may have been every muscle in his body as he threw his head back in a silent scream, drawing a deep breath. Cas clamped his hand over Dean's mouth as he thrashed below him before realizing Dean was only breathing loudly, with short bursts of helpless whimpering through what had to be a bone-rattling and particularly long orgasm. Cas held still as Dean's body pumped spurt after spurt of hot, thick liquid inside of him.

Watching carefully, he picked up the moment Dean began shaking his head furiously and hit the power button, allowing him to come down.

"Out!" Dean growled between attempts to catch his breath, "I need it out!"

"I'll get it," Cas said quietly, rising onto his knees and trying to move gently despite the groan of a complaint Dean gave at the slight motion. Coming to his side, Cas picked up one of Dean's splayed knees to try to get a better angle to remove the toy, intending to have Dean hold it out of the way, only to freeze as Dean hissed in discomfort, "Dean? ...Breathe."

"Don't move me! I can't, it's just-"

"Dean, you trust me, you just have to relax."

"Slow! I swear to god, Cas, you pull that out too fast-"

"I know," Cas assured him, reaching for the edge of the toy and correcting the angle to create less pressure as he tried to ease it out, "And you're panicking, the same way you did the last time you seized up like this."

"You know what? I'll do it," Dean panted, raising his head from the pillow, "Stop touching me."

Waiting through Dean's predictable resulting squirm of pain, Cas put a firm hand on the back of his thigh, "You're overstimulated."

"So worth it," Dean mumbled, laying back. He groaned slightly as Cas eased the thickest part through his tightened ring of muscle, and slowed it from coming out too quickly before bringing his leg back down. Getting up from the bed and starting for the bathroom, Cas was less than surprised as Dean immediately reached for him, "Hey, wait, where're you going?"

"You just said you wanted me to back off," Cas replied, reaching the doorway, hitting the light switch, and finding the sink still full. Shaking his head, he set the toy on the counter and returned to the bed.

"That's not what I meant-"

"I know," Cas answered, assuming his usual position on the bed as Dean adjusted to make the smallest amount of space possible, and wrapped around him, reaching for him, fondling him gently.

Dean looked slightly concerned, "You weren't really into it, were you?"

Cas shrugged, "It got you to relax, didn't it? And that was my goal."

"Yeah, but I could-"

"No, nothing strenuous, you promised-"

"Well, do you want to-"

"Dean," Cas warned in a voice that seemed more calm than stern.

In response, Dean only tucked his head into the crook of Cas' shoulder and shrugged.

Cas hadn't realized he was drifting off until he felt Dean move, jarring him, reaching to turn off the lamp next to the bed.

"Probably good we don't have a T.V. in here anyway," he muttered, before stroking Cas' cheek in the darkness and kissing him softly.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: The next chapter is going to be one year down the line, but I'll remind you. I have outline pieces, but life's been crazy lately, so I don't know when, or exactly how it's going to come together.)


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: Heads-up, folks...
> 
> Trigger warning - Big dogs get old fast, but nothing violent, nothing graphic, and the worst is skipped... RIP Nick Fury.
> 
> That being said, as sad as it is, and with as awful timing as it is, I want to make it clear, I do not consider the dog a major character. She's a beloved pet. Her thoughts and feelings are never outlined, only reactionary behavior. Labs have a lifespan of 10 to 13, 14 years, hers started rough, changes in family life stress a dog, the timing is probable.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Got a lot of stuff sorting out, despite the major gaps between chapters. I'm bound and determined to finish this! FW)

* * *

** One Year Later **

* * *

Sitting uncomfortably in the desk chair, which he'd rolled to the opening of the dark hallway of the shop, Dean craned his neck casting an uneasy look toward the vehicle in the first bay. The door swung open, catching his attention, and Claire entered carrying a portfolio and a large binder with Melody at her heels, a toy pony in one hand, crayons in the other, and a coloring book under her arm.

Melody trotted past her mother as the door swung shut, going straight for Dean before Claire could stop her, and attempting to climb onto his lap. Sitting up straighter far too quickly, he grimaced as he slowed Melody down, "Whoa, whoa, hold up!"

"Mel, don't climb him, his tummy hurts!" Claire said quickly as Melody stepped back, confused.

"Why?"

"Part of my insides were sick, the doctors took the sick part out," Dean explained to the tiny child, "Too much junk food."

Claire shifted her weighty load as Dean made just enough room for her to get through to the small office. Melody hung back, inching closer to Dean, preparing a barrage of questions. As Dean was craning his neck again, she began patting his hand rapidly with the side of the toy pony, "Your tummy sick?"

"Nah, just the gallbladder, and it's out now. I'll be okay. Okay?" Dean answered, "Your dad's working on my car, maybe we should go check on how it's going."

Calling loudly from the bays, Alfie's voice echoed through the shop, "Dean, if you get out of that chair, somebody better be bleeding."

"Yeah, somebody's gonna be, if you mess this up," Dean muttered.

Melody opened the coloring book across Dean's lap as she pressed the toy pony into his hand and began showing him the pictures she'd colored that morning, and he pretended to pay attention.

Thinking twice and maneuvering gingerly, he carefully pulled Melody onto his lap, seating her sideways and trying to keep her from bumping into his nearly healed incisions. Scooting the chair backward down the hall, passing the closed office door, he came to the edge of the garage, within spitting distance of his Impala.

"This is just killing you, isn't it?" Alfie asked.

Dean shrugged slightly as he shook his head, slowly backpedaling in his reaction that clearly showed his discomfort.

Alfie chuckled, "I could let it wait for Ben."

"Don't even think about it."

"Claire, then?"

Dean scoffed, "Just get it done, and make sure it's done right."

"You mean like every other car that comes through this shop, ever? Technically I've been working here longer than you," Alfie replied with an exaggerated scoff of his own.

"I can't speak for 'working,' I just know you came with the business," Dean groused.

"Yeah? What was I doing those first two weeks, then? Assuming I wasn't busting my ass?"

"Swear jar, Daddy!" Melody piped up from Dean's lap.

"That's okay, champ, he's good for it," Dean answered, patting her on the back.

Smirking, Alfie continued about his task, "So which part is worse? The fact that somebody else is under the hood, or being stuck in the chair?"

"If I wasn't stuck in the chair, nobody else would be under the hood," Dean reasoned.

The office door in the middle of the hallway opened quickly and Claire stepped out, about to say something, but was interrupted by the sight of the three of them, the chair nearly filling the hallway opening and Alfie smirking just beyond it, "Did, um, did that rep ever call back?"

"Uh, yeah," Dean replied, "They don't want to cover anything we do. Got back to Freemont, and he said he trusts us, so Blake's out there now, taking it apart."

Claire's hand immediately met her face, "What is our insurance going to say if he gets hurt violating somebody's warrantee? Who's liable, us? The manufacturer? Freemont? They won't pay for this, they're going to send the bills back to you."

"Didn't cross my mind," Dean answered, "We haven't had anybody-"

"Nope... No, this doesn't work. You get him back on the phone, and tell him to make it look like he hasn't touched any part of it, and I'm going to go make a call, see if we can get an exception for distance from the official folks."

Dean watched as the door closed behind her once more, and quietly told Melody, who was flipping pages, "I'm chalking that one up to the painkillers."

As he made no move toward the front desk, Alfie began to chuckle, "You heard the boss, jackass. Back at the desk."

"I was told to call, not to leave my car with you. I can call from my cell," Dean replied.

"Daddy, you said you're the jackass," Melody reminded him.

"Yeah, well, it's Grandpa's turn right now," Alfie answered a little too happily.

Melody gave an innocent look of confusion that made Dean grin as Alfie reached for something below the hood of the car out of Dean's sight, causing him to shift his attention abruptly back to the garage, "You looked at the manual, right?"

Rolling his eyes, Alfie turned slightly, leaning on his elbow, "God, you're not gonna stop. You'd think by now, seeing as you trust me with everything else-"

"I don't expect you to get it, okay?" Dean argued.

"I'll buy it from you. How much?"

"No."

"Five million? You could buy and restore three and still have a ton left over."

"No."

"Name it, c'mon," Alfie teased, "Everything's got a price. How much for the car?"

"One of your arms, one of your legs, and your firstborn child," Dean stated flatly before turning to Melody and patting her back to get her attention, "You'd be up for that, right? Getting kidnapped?"

"No," Melody said quietly.

"How about being held ransom? We'll get Pop-pop to bring cookies."

"Okay."

"That's cheap, even for you," Alfie grumbled.

Dean shrugged, "Insubordination, turn-about is fair play."

"You're bribing my daughter with cookies."

"I don't hear you offering her a better deal."

Alfie gestured helplessly toward the closed door, "Trust me, I would, but there's rules, and I know better than to p-...irritate the real boss around here. I'll be sure to let her know you're planning an abduction, though, that's gonna go well."

"Yeah, well," Dean smirked, "Get that car done fast enough, and in perfect shape, you get her back without the sugar high, and mom's none the wiser."

"None the wiser about what?" Claire asked. Dean hadn't heard the door, and now Claire was blocking his escape back to the desk.

Turning the seat half-way to face her, he jerked a thumb in Alfie's direction, "He's got my car, I've got the grandkid. Everything goes fine, we trade back. If, for some reason, it doesn't, say something gets _spoiled,_ I won't be held accountable for my actions, which might involve a big bag of jelly beans."

Claire raised an eyebrow and looked over Dean's head to where Alfie gave a guilty shrug. Looking back to Melody, who hadn't concerned herself in the least with the conversation, Claire stepped aside and waved him back toward the front of the building, "Knock yourself out."

Hiding his surprize at her apparent permission to proceed as planned, Dean put a hand around Melody's small frame to steady her, and scooted back toward the front lobby. Claire waited until they'd passed, and went into the garage.

"Was that really the best idea?" Alfie asked in a whisper low enough not to carry his voice through the building.

"He just had surgery because of all those burgers and a shitty diet all his life, he's not about to give her diabetes. Nevermind the fact that you've got his car, he's not running into town. Where's he going to get enough junk food to cause any damage? He's bored, he's stressed, and he wants a distraction, that's all."

"He's making jokes about kidnapping and ransom-"

"Look me in the eye and tell me you're uncomfortable."

Alfie stood up straight, but unable to do more than shrug, he just shook his head.

Claire nodded, "I'll tell him to tone it down. Anything else? Sounds like it got a little heated."

"No, I was busting his chops, so, what you heard, that was after, it was, um..."

"Average for the chop-busting?"

"Yes."

Claire patted his chest, "You tone it down, too."

* * *

In a small apartment near the college campus in town, a bachelor pad that was furnished appropriately with as little functional furniture as possible, Jack did his best not to trip over his friends as he got up to answer the door. The door swung into the room as he pulled it open, blocking the visitor from view of Xander, who'd taken up residence in the second bedroom, and the other three guys, which included Ben.

"Hi... Who ordered the librarian themed stripper-gram?"

"Get thee hence and impale thyself wantonly, Jack."

Jack cackled as he stepped back, waving Caitlin in, "'Go away and get fucked' in Shakespeare. Nice... Hey, Ben, if you two ever split up, no offense, but I'm gonna move on th-"

"No," Ben replied, getting up quickly and grabbing his bag, "And I'm telling your girlfriend you said that."

"Oh, come on, man! I didn't mean it like that," Jack protested.

"Relax, I know you're just freaking out because she's so awesome, but she says she's with me, so, yeah, what she said," Ben answered, hurrying for the door as one of the other young men mumbled something less than appropriate. Ben didn't catch what it was, but the offending person received a quick punch in the shoulder from Xander for the comment.

"What? I don't get the tour?" Caitlin pretended to whine.

"So you can gloat about how much nicer your place is?" Jack shot back.

Caitlin shrugged, nearly hiding her wry grin.

Jack rolled his eyes, "It's laughable, okay? Bare basics. Just us guys, and not like Cas and Dean's place, where there's interior design involved, either."

"Well, if you and Xander get to where you'd like a real meal off of actual plates without admitting it to your parents, maybe we can set up another D&D campaign," Caitlin suggested.

Jack turned to Ben, pointing to Caitlin, "Marry her."

Shouldering past Jack with a laugh, Ben followed Caitlin out the door, and down the exterior stairs to the parking lot. Caitlin gave him the keys and went to the passenger side of the Mustang to get in.

The car hadn't changed much in a year, although due to Dean's proding, he'd finally painted it properly, giving it a pale green color that was easy to find in a parking lot.

"I'm sorry Jack was being stupid, that crap was-"

"Don't start that again. If it bugged me, I sure as hell wouldn't let him come over, much less suggest it on a regular basis."

"Yeah, but-"

"It's okay. Besides, Xander says stuff all the time," Caitlin replied, fastening her seatbelt. Looking up she found Ben watching her closely.

"Xander's not, like, directing it right at you, though."

"Are you jealous? You need me all to yourself?"

"So what if I do?" Ben asked, "Is that something you can live with?"

"And I'm just supposed to support your delicate masculine ego?"

"Sometimes," Ben said softly, "I wonder if anybody else could... The more I'm with you, the harder it gets to think about having to deal with that on my own."

"What am I supposed to do about that? We went over this, you know, my end-goal, big picture, is-"

"Betterment of the whole damn human race by blowing stuff up-"

"Controlled explosions are the best kind."

Ben shrugged, "You're insane. Full-on mad scientist, I swear, just-"

"I can't put that on the back burner for you, Ben. Not when there's so much out there, and if I-"

"I'd follow you."

Caitlin turned to look him in the eye, "You're... you're a small-town person, Ben. I don't think you want-"

"That's not true. I spent the first nine years of my life in an apartment in a busy urban area where some people don't even have cars, I can live anywhere, people are always going to have pets to care for, I don't care. We could go to place that you want, I'll make it work, you won't have to lift a finger."

Caitlin was quiet for a moment, and went she spoke, her voice was soft, but clearly, her mind was settled, "No. You need to figure out your own plans, we need to stick to what we already sorted out. You focus on your own life, and I'm going to focus on mine, and we just periodically reassess. If it works, it works, but I am not going to let you put me at the top of your list if I can't put you at the top of mine. It's not fair to ask you to live like some military wife while I'm busy with-"

"Saving the world from an alien invasion? No-" Ben cut her off as she started to speak again, "What if I don't care if your work comes first? And why should you care if you're at the top of my list? It's my list, you can't change what's important to me. You don't get to tell me focus on being the world's best vet when I don't have that kind of drive. Not for work, anyway."

"I can't ask you to be second place in my life, when-"

"It's not second place!" Ben snapped, "You know I'm not even going to have to pay back any student loans, right? My brother-in-law covered college for me and Xander as high school graduation gifts. No debt, no strings, I'm a free man. I could follow you to Mars, and work in it's first Starbucks. But I don't want to lose you."

"It's a year. And you still have veterinary school."

"So I'll scale it back and be a vet tech."

"No."

"Caitlin, you're crossing the line, okay? You can't tell me what to do with my own life."

"I wouldn't have to, if you weren't thinking with your dick."

Ben's jaw dropped, and rather than argue, he started the car, "Nice to see what you really think of me... It's a damn good thing I know you well enough to know you aren't dumb enough to believe that. You're just setting up stress to push me away. That's controlling, you know."

Caitlin crossed her arms and stared out the window, keeping silent.

"That's fine... I know you're doing this because you think it's for my own good, beause if you actually wanted to break up, you'd say so. But you know I'm not an idiot. And if I can see right through your little game, then maybe I'm smart enough to know what my priorities are, okay? And maybe I can handle taking a back seat to Miss Einstein's obsession over metal tubes that'll always be more interesting than me, maybe I'm fine with that, but honestly, you can't tell me that that second-place spot with you can't be my first priority. And somebody has to be there to remind you to take a break, step back, and take care of yourself, and if that's what I want, you don't get to tell me I'm wrong for wanting it."

It was a silent ride to the ranch house just past the edge of town, and putting the car in park in the driveway, Ben didn't turn off the lights or stop the engine. Caitlin pulled her bookbag into her lap, "Are you coming in?"

Ben shook his head, "Sorry, baby, I'm off the menu tonight. Not after that bullshit."

Caitlin was fuming, and slammed the door as she got out, hurrying to the house. Ben waited until she'd gone inside before backing out of the driveway.

* * *

After an unnervingly quiet dinner, Cas had taken his usual spot on the couch with his clipboard, and Dean had gotten comfortable in one of the chairs, muting the television as he scrolled, looking for something to occupy him. Nick had stretched out nearby, and in the quiet, Dean began to relax.

Nick gave a grunt and rolled onto her side, and Cas stopped writing, looking around. Dean noticed the same action when the dishwasher changed cycles a room away. He soon gave up on the television menu and loaded one of the streaming services, watching his husband out the corner of his eye, flipping through movies and shows despite having made up his mind several moments before. Cas was checking his phone far more often than usual, and nearly jumping at any noise.

"Hey, sweetheart?" Dean asked softly, which was enough to send Cas' pencil floorward.

"Yes?" he asked, reaching for the errant stylus.

"Maybe we should double up on date night a bit, at least until we get used to the house being this quiet? Maybe start hitting the movies once a week?"

Cas shrugged, "It's not that bad, and Ben hasn't moved out yet, I'm sure we'll adjust."

"If it's bugging you, though, we can start leaving the radio on-"

"I'm fine. Really."

Dean smirked, "You're cute when you lie."

Cas shot him an exhasperated look.

"It's getting to you, I can see it... C'mon, the kids are growing up, moving out, how many years has it been? Twelve years since you had this place all to yourself?"

"Why? Where are you going?" Cas asked sarcastically. He shook his head sadly, "No, it was a lot longer than that. Alan left because I was bringing Claire home, and he was... Very noisy, loud, careless, and he'd have a fit and throw dishes on the floor occasionally."

"You put up with that?"

Cas shrugged, "He was a rebound that somehow became long-term, not a good decision to start with, but since it bothers you-"

"I think I'm growing out of it."

With a slight nod, Cas continued, "Before him, I lived alone for two years straight, but that was when things were complicated."

"The married guy?"

"Yes, the married guy. But everything was transparent from the start, I know I told you about that."

"Yeah, you did. You were real clear," Dean replied, "I'm just trying to figure out how you handled living alone before, that's all. Just thought something might help with the empty nest thing you've got going on."

"I just spent so long thinking I'd never have children, or not living in my home until it slapped me in the face, now... Well, now, I don't know," Cas muttered.

Dean shifted in the chair and brought one ankle up onto his knee, "Would you want to try to foster again?"

Cas quietly set the clipboard and pencil on the coffee table and sat back, considering the question deeply, "I'm not sure... I don't know if we have the time and energy to devote to taking on parenting another child, learning their personallity, helping them with whatever challenges they might be facing. Not with the shop expanding, the school district asking me to take on a more public role, and... I'm not sure we'd qualify now that I've had a heart attack. Maybe it's just time to accept that part of life is passing us."

Catching the sad and regretful tones in Cas' voice, Dean got up carefully and moved to sit on the couch, tight against Cas' side, putting an arm around his shoulders and taking hold of his hand, "I could be a little louder, I guess... I'm not throwing dishes, though."

"I appreciate that."

"And if you still need some noise after that, we'll get a little useless rat-sized dog that won't shut up."

Cas chuckled, shaking his head, "I don't need a small dog."

"A cat, then."

"You're allergic."

"A bird? Something squaking and making all kinds of noise, repeating shit in front of people?"

Cas chuckled, "No, I thought I'd just keep you for a pet. Walk you around on a leash."

"Promise?" Dean asked, noticing the flash of headlights through the living room window. The sound of the car caught Cas' attention as well, and knowing Ben had been helping Xander settle in, he perked up slightly, ready to ask how the evening had gone, but no sooner had the door opened, it closed again, and Ben barreled up the stairs to his room.

Looking after Ben, Dean slowly turned back around, "Well... If he's gonna pretend we're not here, may as well do the same, act like we didn't hear him come in, put on a movie nice and loud and make out."

"Dean," Cas said softly, ignoring it as Dean stroked his upper arm and began to lean in close. Changing his focus and following Cas' gaze, he realized the same thing Cas had noticed. When Ben had come in, the door should have been plenty to wake Nick, yet she'd made no move to stand up, much less limp to the foot of the stairs and wag or whine until carried up.

Dean stood slowly and stepped close to the dog, "Nick? You feeling okay, girl?"

"She's only ten, she shouldn't..." Cas mused, failing to finish voicing his thoughts.

"Maybe. Maybe not," Dean replied, carefully reaching down to the floor to pet her. Nick startled with a jerky motion, raising her lip, but finding Dean standing above her, relaxed slightly, and gave a whimper without lifting her head, "That's not good... Might want to get Ben to call the vet, see if he'll come out and check on her."

"This late?" Cas asked, already getting up from the couch.

"Yeah, something's wrong. And I know Ben fixed his car for nothing a few weeks ago, so... At least get Ben down here."

* * *

Following the sounds of furious shovelwork in the dark, Xander let himself through the back gate, and in the light of a flashlight swinging lazily in the wind where it had been hung on a branch by it's short lanyard, he found Ben, red-faced and sweating as he dug next to the treeline.

"Hey... Did I get here too late?" Xander asked.

Ben angrily threw a few more shovelfulls of dirt aside, "What do you care? You never gave a damn about the dog before."

Xander shrugged, "I don't like dogs, but Nick was okay, I guess."

"She's not dead yet, asshole."

"Sorry... In that case, you want me to take over? You should go sit with her."

"Fuck off."

"Dude!"

Ben tossed the shovel aside, growling at his brother as he started for the back door, soiled nearly to the shoulders from digging, "You don't know shit, okay? Leave me alone."

Waiting until the glass door slid shut after Ben, Xander picked up the shovel and began to deepen the hole.

Inside, Dean looked up from where he'd sat down with Nick an hour before. She had set her cheek and muzzle on his hand, and he was stroking the ear she had to the ceiling. He gave Ben a once over, "That sure, huh?"

Ben nodded grimly, and took a seat on the floor next to him. Nick whined slightly and tried to paw at him, and he picked up her paw gently, setting his free hand on her shoulder. He looked up as Cas came downstairs, "Why'd you call Xander?"

Giving a shrug, Cas shook his head, "I assumed he'd want a chance to say goodbye, even if he's not particularly fond of animals."

"Say goodbye to _my_ dog?"

"Ben, he's been good to her, and helped take care of her enough times, don't start," Dean said quietly.

With a frown that indicated he was holding back words, Cas spotted a car through the window, and quietly opened the door to wait.

"If this is just her going from old age, shouldn't we have seen a few more signs of it before this?" Dean asked.

"She got old and cranky, and stopped using the stairs. She's barely been eating the last couple days, how many signs do you need?"

Dean gave him a skeptical look, "I get that this is painful for you, but if you think the rest of us are somehow okay with it, you need to take a step back, okay? There's no reason to make it worse by running around biting people's heads off."

"My girlfriend wants to break up, my dog isn't going to make it through the night, all I need is a broken down truck, and I'm living in a damn country song. That's how my day is going. Think you can do worse?"

* * *

Finding no ways left to comfort Ben, who'd finally snapped at Dean viciously before dragging himself upstairs to shower and shut himself away in the small hours of the morning after completing the task of burying his dog, Cas had wearily stretched out on his side of the bed to wait.

He was sure Xander hadn't noticed him looking through the window when he'd thrown a punch into the side of the garden shed and walked away shaking out his hand, and he hadn't mentioned it. Xander had left shortly before the hole had been filled.

Having left the bedroom door open, he could hear Dean pacing downstairs, and was less than surprised after his very tired approach up the stairs. Still recovering, he'd been wearing far less dirt than Ben had, Ben had been covered in it by the time he was done, but Dean's hands were soiled and Nick's fur was evident on his shirt. His face spoke of heartache and his shoulders drooped. With a beaten look at Cas, he stepped into the bathroom, quickly washing up.

Cas was scrolling on his phone as Dean made his way to the bed, lowering himself carefully, expecting uncomfortable pangs as he settled onto the bed, still in his jeans and boots.

"I thought you'd be asleep. It's almost four."

Cas shook his head, "I thought one of those do-it-yourself concrete pavers might be an appropriate marker."

"A marker? For a dog?" Dean asked quietly.

"No. She won't be here to look at it. But Ben, he might appreciate it, after he calms down," Cas replied, "...Losing her certainly isn't going to help with the noise."

Dean squeezed Cas' knee, "C'mon, you got work in the morning, right?"

"Hm."

"I might even start getting an extra hour, nobody whining at the top of the stairs."

"You're in the habit, it'll take a while to break," Cas answered.

"Furry little shit stealing my bacon-"

"I trained her better than that. You were sharing."

"I was not-"

"You bottle-fed her. Don't lie to me, I know when you're attached."

Dean scoffed, "You don't have the best track record at reading me, babe. It took showing up with flowers and spelling it out before you got the idea I was into you."

"And since then, I've had time to become an expert. You're distraught and you're hiding it."

Rolling his eyes, Dean shook his head slightly, going quiet for several seconds. His voice came softly when he spoke again, "You know, ten years... I had no idea she was out there, if you hadn't been there, sitting with Ben, the way he reacted I don't think he would have been able to tell me, she, um... You listened, and you heard every word he said, or she would have been out the the yard and probably starved to death, or gotten eaten by something, I don't know..."

Cas shut off the screen and set his phone down on the nightstand, turning off the lamp before adjusting to lay down, putting an arm over Dean. It wasn't long before small trembles gave away the silent tears in the darkness, and Cas tightened his arm, "I wasn't going to mention it, but I think it's worth pointing out that Nick has been a fixture in this home since before Xander came to us. It's nothing out of the ordinary to be-"

He went quiet as Dean's hand found his and gave it a hard squeeze.

* * *


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: I'm still not really over the dog. Y'all hanging in there? Okay, good. Here's a chapter. I'm gonna go write the next one.
> 
> Love you all! FW)

* * *

Ben had spent at least half an hour debating calling or texting Caitlin before he fell asleep, and finally gave up and turned in. He was thoroughly exhausted when the usual alarm woke him, and he dragged himself from his bed. Finding himself incapable of a functional degree of activity, he resolved he wouldn't be attending his classes, but pulled on some clothes haphazardly, and drove to the ranch house anyway.

Caitlin had to have heard the car, and came out right away, stopping halfway to the car as he got out. His mood returning from the night before, he pulled a half-finished bottle of water from the center console, left there he wasn't sure how long, and pitched her the keys before starting for the back of the house.

"Ben, where are you going?" Caitlin asked, slowly following after him, not struggling to keep up with his lazy pace.

"Home. I'm staying home today. Nick died last night. You better head out, don't want to be late."

"Wait!" Caitlin caught up as he stopped, "I'm sorry, and last night-"

"Take the car, go to class, leave me alone."

"At least let me drop you off back at your house," Caitlin insisted.

"Nope. I'm gonna cut through the ranch. It'll give me some time to think. You wanted me to do that anyway, right?" Ben asked with a fair amount of snark.

Caitlin shook her head, "Ben, you're making me worry about you. I love you, and-"

"Later," Ben replied, walking away.

"It's forty-five minutes downhill, it's going to be twice as long-" Caitlin replied, grabbing his arm, "Would you just give me a minute?"

He stopped and faced her, not particularly interested in anything she had to say, and shrugged. Emptiness plagued his eyes, and she was certain no part of it was exaggerated.

"You weren't even going to say it back?" she asked in a whisper, "Are you really that mad at me?"

Ben pointed to the highway, "Your priorities are that way, remember?"

"My priorities are-"

"Don't say flexible. Not right now. I'm not doing this. And maybe you're right, maybe you do know how far I'd go for you, but if you don't respect me for that, then what the hell am I doing here? Why am I with you?" Tears welled in Caitlin's eyes as her loss for words became apparent, but Ben shook his head, "Scares the hell out of you, right? That's why you keep making all these conditions and rules, and pushing me away, dragging me back, it's outside of your control, so you hate it, at least that part. Love makes people stupid, and that drives you crazy, doesn't it?"

"Makes people do stupid things, maybe, but-"

"No. I don't think so, I think if it's real love, it turns people into blathering idiots, and I'm not sure you're up for that." Ben turned around and took a step closer to the back gate before thinking better of it and addressing her again, "You what's really getting to me about this? A few months ago, when your parents came to visit, we were at that restaurant and you left the table for a bit, I actually asked them if they'd be cool with me asking you, sometime down the road."

"What?" she asked, startled.

"Yeah. Both of them, together. Your mom was on the fence, said she wanted you with somebody more religious, and your dad said you'd be miserable with a really religious person, and he said he was all for it if I went for it. So, just... I don't know. But now you know. But maybe you're right, why should I stick around if you want me to stay at arms-length? I'm trying not to be selfish, but maybe I'm trying too hard, and not being selfish enough."

"What does that even mean?" Caitlin blurted, desperate to understand as the words had spilled from Ben so fast that the subjects seemed to merge and intertwine before her.

"Take the car. Go to class. Leave me alone," Ben reiterated before taking a faster pace and leaving the yard.

* * *

Alfie had opened the front door even as Melody came running up behind his legs full tilt. He hadn't been expecting Ivan, smirking, and overdressed in pricy dark clothes, to be standing on the porch. Accepting a quick hug and stepping back, Ivan turned to greet Melody, who'd apparently forgotten him completely as she eyed him suspiciously and backed up.

"Mel, this is Ivan. He used to work at the shop, we see him sometimes, remember?" Alfie prompted, "He was my roommate for a while before your mom and I got married."

Melody squinted slightly, shook her head and went back to the living room.

"Somebody doesn't like me," Ivan chuckled quietly.

"Sorry, she's just-"

"No, hell no, that's good. Better than having her trust the wrong person."

Alfie shrugged, unwilling to consider it, then lead the way to the living room, "So what's going on? How's life, lately?"

"Well, I had an idea, and I'm taking a break to do the family thing for a few months, then I'm hoping to try something a little different. Something you might want to get in on."

"Yeah?" Alfie asked, taking a seat in the armchair, "You know, I'm not, um, really doing anything music-wise, not anymore."

Ivan followed suit, sitting on the couch as Melody ran past and started a careful ascent of the stairs behind him, "Just hear me out. You probably won't get anywhere near a mic, okay?"

"Okay," Alfie said, drawing out the words suspiciously, "So, what would I be doing?"

"That, um, stuff, the computer stuff with the pictures, the photography tricks where sometimes it's digital, sometimes it's not, right?"

"The album artwork, you mean?"

"No. Well, yeah, but not. More like a collaboration, joint effort."

Alfie looked fairly confused, "Hang on, and I'm not complaining, but this doesn't sound like collaboration, it sounds like you want me to do the artwork for it, I don't see how you'd be involved in that."

"No, hang on," Ivan said, sitting forward, "This is something else, brand new direction, okay? New project, not just an album, but like... it's, uh..."

"Damn good thing you write better than you talk," Alfie chuckled.

"Okay," Ivan answered, nodding at the statement, "Julie said not to tell you, so not a word or you're gonna get me in trouble, but she overheard you and Kevin at the diner a while back, you guys were talking about this creative block you're having trouble with?"

"Julie's spying on me?" Alfie asked with a confused look.

"Just hear me out!" Ivan insisted.

"Yeah," Alfie answered, motioning for him to continue.

"When this picks up, right? I'm going to throw my half-baked ideas your way, shit where I have words, no music, music, no words, and throw whatever those little- You know, those, uh... not-done, sketched out ideas, those things? You send me some of those. We interperate, integrate that kind of thing into what we'd be doing anyway, and the whole tone of both things changes. You drive out and check out the recording studio, take pictures, draw whatever comes to mind, and if you feel like it, okay, maybe there would be a mic involved, I don't know. But one thing it's going to do is make people talk, which gets us both out there, and if it pans out, some really awesome stuff could come from this."

Alfie sat quietly for longer than Ivan was comfortable with, staring into space, his elbow on the arm of the chair, cheek in his hand, first finger scratching slightly at his hairline. Ivan's hope was drifting downward at a steady pace.

Coming out of his obviously deep thoughts, Alfie risked a look at Ivan, who had finally chanced a look at the picture of Claire on the wall, something he hadn't seen before. Ivan glanced at the blank screen of the television sheepishly, hoping it hadn't been too obvious, "You look like crap, you know."

"I got off the bus two days ago, man. What do you want from me?" Ivan asked.

"Yeah, well, the 'bad boy image' with the ponytail has to stop sometime. I mean, the get-up has evolved, but you gotta sort that out."

Ivan self-conciously reached for his hair without noticing his actions, "Wait, so-?"

"Go hit Kevin up. I promise, it'll be worth it. Do you have time to come back tomorrow?" Alfie asked.

"Uh, yeah, just-"

"Cool. I'm here all day, bring the kids if you want. I'll show you some of the half-baked crap I've got on the back-burner, and let you dig around in the rejected stuff."

Still taken aback from the comments about his appearance, Ivan stood slowly, following him to the door, "So, we're doing this?"

Alfie shrugged, "Yeah, I've got nothing better to do. Worst case scenario, we have a huge flop, our careers never recover, and we got back to working at the shop with Claire bossing us around all day. Not much of a change for me, and it was your idea."

"Oh, crap. It was my idea," Ivan confirmed.

"Yep. But there's plenty of time to back out. Except for the scissors, but that part, I'm just telling you as a friend."

* * *

Finally done for the day, Claire closed the bay doors and shut down the shop. Clocking out before locking up, she was surprised to find a far higher amount of overtime listed than she'd expected. Exhausted, but pleased with her progress toward the licensing of the new location, she started the short walk home in the harsh electric lights that flooded the junkyard.

Half-way to the small house, she began to feel uneasy. Reasoning with herself, she assumed the feeling would settle as she realized the porch light was off. Alfie had developed a strong habit of turning it on before starting dinner, and she considered that he may have forgotten, or the bulb may have burned out. Still, the light was not the only thing that was off, she just couldn't place what else.

The door swung open easily, exposing her to an uncomfortable stillness. A slight rustle of paper led her upstairs. She hadn't reached the landing yet as across the open space and behind a railing she found Alfie sitting on the floor of the study nook, odd bits and pieces of old work scattered in a form of chaos that didn't strike her as reasonable, certainly not when considering how organized Alfie tended to be.

"Alfie, what the hell?" Claire asked softly. He turned in place, twisting to look at her. She pointed to several areas of the papery mess that filled the small area, and he shrugged. She made the decision to give up on that subject rather quickly, "Okay. Where's Mel? Is she asleep already?"

"Uh, she's... at your dad's."

"What?" The questioning word hadn't been loud, or asked in a harsh manner, but it was enough to snap through the somewhat manic distraction that Alfie had been absorbed in for... He'd lost track of time.

"Um, yeah, I kind of had a thing I needed to..." Alfie said carefully, realizing how slow he was speaking. It briefly crossed his mind that from the look and sound of things, she may assume he was having some sort of mental break, "I sent her over so I could focus, because tomorrow-"

"Sent her? You let her walk over there?" Claire asked already started down the stairs.

"Wait, that's not-" Alfie replied as he stood from the floor quickly, "I didn't-"

"She's three. You can't watch her all the way over, there's snakes, coyotes, sharp rocks, and cars, okay? Anything could-" Claire had reached the front door as Alfie caught up to her, and flung it open, hurrying down the steps.

"I didn't send her over by herself! I'm not stupid-"

"It's an hour after her bedtime!" Claire snapped, still marching for the road.

"Your dad stopped to get Dean since he's still not walking very far, and I came out and asked if they could take her for a bit so I could get some stuff ready, this isn't some huge deal-"

"That was four hours ago!"

Looking around, Alfie was sure he hadn't traveled this particular path on foot at such a high speed in years. They were nearly to the close corner of the other yard, "It gets this way sometimes. You know I get up to my elbows in something, and it takes time, okay? This kind of a big deal. Or it might be. I don't really know what's going to happen yet, but it's important."

"It's nine-thirty at night, and we have a three-year-old who goes bonkers when you screw up her schedule. That's the whole reason you're never in the shop anymore. We have a stable system in place, and you didn't even tell me you were sending her over here. I could have wrapped things up an hour ago and brought her home!"

From the porch swing, unnoticed, Cas looked up from the email he was answering on his phone, finding the commotion further off very odd. He hadn't seen Claire so aggitated in years, and had come to expect Alfie to be a soothing influence that put a damper on her anxieties. Without meaning to, he set his phone on his thigh and took note of the conversation.

"She's perfectly safe here, she probably had a good time and a healthy dinner, okay? You can relax-"

"I can't!"

"Why are you yelling at me?" Alfie demanded.

"Because I want another baby!" Claire blurted before she could stop herself.

From his vantage point, Cas saw Claire's hand cover her mouth before immediately going to her forehead as Alfie took a step back.

"Oh.. okay?" Alfie said quietly, "I mean, I didn't think that you-.. If you want to, it's just... Yes?"

Claire stared at him as though he'd grown gills, before giving a disgruntled sound of annoyance and opening the gate roughly enough to slam it against the fence and make it rattle on it's hinges, "God, I can't even talk to you right now!"

Alfie held back rather than follow too closely behind her, and wandered close to the steps as Claire went inside. Finally, much to his own embarassment, he spotted the light from Cas' phone, where he'd gathered his wits and pretended to be preoccupied.

"Hey, Cas. ...Work stuff?"

"Yes."

"You heard all of that, didn't you?"

"Every word," Cas confirmed, "No matter. I'm sure whatever's going on, the two of you will sort it out in time."

Alfie shifted anxiously, "I wasn't expecting to hear anything like that, that was-"

"None of my business," Cas muttered rather clearly as he continued to focus on his phone, "Although if anyone were to ask my opinion, which I'd strongly suggest they didn't, if Melody is any indication, the two of you do make very good parents... and I have seen plenty who weren't fit to raise pigs."

The confusion was evident in Alfie's brow as Cas stood to go inside, "Wait, what does that-?"

"I like my grandchild very much, and you're not a terrible father," Cas grumbled dismissively.

"We just, um, forget this ever came up, right?"

Cas nodded without looking at him and went inside as Claire passed him at the door, coming out with Melody asleep, and poured over her shoulder as only toddlers and very young children are comfortable doing. He paused to pat Melody on the head as Claire went through the door, speaking quietly to Claire, but Alfie didn't catch what was said.

Alfie went straight to the gate to hold it open for her as he heard the door close quietly behind him, "Can we talk about this? Because if there was a real problem, they would have called, and I would have gone and picked her up."

"A real problem?"

"Yes, a real problem. She's three, she doesn't have an algebra test in the morning," Alfie reasoned quietly.

"She's going to be cranky-"

"I'll be the one handling it."

"Damn right, you will."

"While we're on the subject of tomorrow, Ivan stopped by, and he might be bringing his kids over tomorrow, so, you know, hopefully she'll get to play with some other kids for a bit."

"Great, heavy-metal playdate," Claire seemed less than thrilled with the idea.

"And you're still angry... You don't trust me?" Alfie asked, his voice barely audible over the sound of the gravel below their feet.

"Where is your brain, huh?"

"One time. Just one time. They've babysat her a million times, she's happy, comfortable, safe, and this was work-related, I wasn't..." Alfie let himself trail off, causing a questioning look from Claire, "Hang on, I'm trying to think of a nice way to say it."

"Spit it out."

Haltingly, he replied, "It was work, I didn't... pass out with a needle."

Claire shook her head, unfazed, "You were sitting in a pile of paper, how is that work?"

"Just because I wasn't surrounded by it in stacks with a phone in my ear arguing with an accountant about the meaning of 'neccessary' doesn't mean it's not work. I needed to get some of my older stuff, garbage stuff, put together for Ivan. We're gonna do, um, it's a thing. Bounce ideas around, maybe."

"For four hours?"

"For less time than you spent at the shop today, and, not to be an ass about it, but it's kind of a big deal."

"As opposed to getting the second shop open? I am bending over backwards to make this work-"

"Claire-" Alfie said, stopping in his tracks, "Believe me, I see that. Every bit of it. It's taking over your whole life lately. That's exactly why I didn't bring her over to the shop to hole-up in the office with you, and I didn't want her at home being ignored by me, she's little, she needs attention. But take two seconds, okay? Stop being angry with me for two seconds, and tell me, why, given every opportunity to do anything you wanted, are you working this hard to open a second car shop in town? What's keeping you from staying home all day, every day?"

Claire shrugged slightly, "I'd lose my damn mind, that's-... You're bored?"

"I'm stuck. And my way out of that stuck place showed up today, said 'Hey, how's it going? Let's do a thing,' and I want to go for it. I... I don't mind being a housewife sometimes, but I need my own thing, Claire. And you're gone all day, sometimes sun-up to sun-down, and I've hit this rut, and my brain is starting to rot," Alfie stepped closer putting an arm around her, "I'm worried I'm going to turn into my mother."

"That's not funny."

"That's a little funny... Okay, no, you're right. But she's old enough that she doesn't need us every second, and... Are we going to talk about the other thing?" Alfie asked, his eyes like a deer frozen in the headlights of an oncoming car.

Claire opened her mouth to speak, but cutting herself short, her hands shifted as she held Melody, "Oh, crap. She fell asleep, she doesn't have a pull-up on."

"So we'll put one on her, no big deal."

"Messing with her when she's asleep? And she's old enough to put them on herself, she should, I don't want her feeling like-"

"Claire, where's your mind going?" Alfie asked softly, a phrase they'd sorted out well in advance, coded to avoid being too direct around Melody, "I mean, yes, she's a big girl, but she's still our baby, we take care of her. It's perfectly normal for her age."

Stress showed in Claire's eyes as she seemed to stall, taking a few seconds to sort out her thoughts and reactions, examining them closer and judging whether or not they were healthy.

In no rush, Alfie shrugged, "Do you want me to handle it?"

Still having some difficulty with the situation, Claire nodded and passed Melody in her rag-doll state over to Alfie, and started up the porch stairs to the door. Doing her best not to follow him upstairs, she went to the kitchen, digging around in the fridge for something that would pass as dinner, but it wasn't until she'd set out a container of leftovers on the counter that she realized her hands were shaking.

Quiet footsteps approached her from behind, speaking softly to avoid startling her, and easing into physical contact at a learned, acceptable pace, "She didn't even wake up... Maybe, since it's just us and dinner, it'd be a good time to talk about work, and what we've got going on, and, um, other things we may want to plan for?"

Not trusting her own voice, having blurted out so much already, Claire shrugged uncomfortably.

"I didn't want to bring it up, honestly, I thought after all the stress last time, maybe you wanted to be one-and-done, but..."

"Why would you think that?"

"You never said anything, and I didn't want to push," Alfie replied, "But that's something you want to plan for, we can-... Um, you're not already, and just didn't tell me yet?"

"No, I'm not."

"Okay, just checking... So, we have time to think it out."

* * *


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: Dang, I need a deep-fried lemon pie right now. My day sucked. Here's a chapter!
> 
> There is going to be a fresh wave of crazy coming in soon.
> 
> Take care of yourselves, as I am not there to do it for you! FW)

* * *

" _Please call me. I want to talk. And anyway, you need your car back eventually._ " Ben re-read the text message five times before the phone began to ring in his hand. He pressed the option to decline the call. A second text arrived shortly after, " _Very mature._ "

Ben rolled his eyes and silenced the phone as Cas came downstairs. Spotting Ben, he gave a confused look.

"Can I ride into town with you? Caitlin's got my car."

"Of course... Why does she have your car?"

Ben shrugged awkwardly, "It's hard to explain."

Cas nodded, "Well, you have your phone, so you can reach me. Unless she has that, too?"

Ben held up his phone in reply before following Cas out the front door.

Loaded with an overwhelming desire to move, to speak, to scream, even, Ben didn't make it out of the driveway before he started talking, despite telling himself at home that he would keep quiet.

"I don't think she's as interested in me as she says she is. Or maybe I'm not understanding her, I don't know what the hell this is, I'm so pissed at her right now... She wants to put her career first, and she's trying to make me do the same thing, I dunno. I've never seen that kind of arrangement in any long-term relationship, I mean, what is that? How do you make that a healthy thing? Is that like being married to your work, and then having a relationship on the side, if you have time for it? And then she talks down to me about it, like I'm not allowed to put her first because she can't-... Actually, no, she's choosing not to. She doesn't want to be with me. Hell, I could tape a damn engagement ring to a telescope and she'd bitch at me for getting tape on the lens, and maybe even send me home for getting in the way. I mean, stars and crap have been out there for... They're not going anywhere, you know?"

Slightly amused, and hearing very clear shades of Dean in Ben's tirade, Cas only nodded, listening.

"I don't get it. And I've been really clear, I'd follow her around wherever, but it's like she's trying to be the absolute best at what she wants to do, and she's not okay with me not doing the same. Veterinary school isn't enough, 'is it the best one? Can you specialize in something only point-oh-three percent of the population can do?' God... Not enough to specialize in dealing with her crazy crap, I swear... Might be zero percent of the population pretty soon."

"How do you mean?"

Ben shrugged, "I'm not sure she actually loves me... I think maybe she thinks that she does, but she doesn't... I don't know if, maybe, she just sticks with me because she thinks she has to, or because it's easy, or maybe she feels obligated to... I mean, she's just..."

"Emotional?" Cas offered.

"No," Ben replied with quiet confusion, "She's not. Not about me, not anymore. She gets more emotional over a T.V. show than... shit..."

Cas took a glance to find Ben running a hand over his face, another echo of Dean's behavior when stressed, "What is it?"

"I think, maybe, I'm done. I gotta break up with her... I mean, I really thought, really, that she... She doesn't love me."

"I wouldn't suggest saying that to her, not directly. It may be true, or could very well be that she loves you, but not in the same way you love her."

"Sorry," Ben said quietly, "I'm just rambling and boring you, just unloading, huh?"

"It's fine," Cas replied, "But, yes, I think you're right that she may not be the best thing for you."

"She could be, if she'd put any effort into spending any kind of time with me... I sound selfish, saying that. I told her yesterday that maybe I wasn't being selfish enough."

Cas nodded, "Would it be better, or worse in ten years?"

Ben scoffed, staring out the window, "I just don't know what to do."

"If you told Caitlin you can't live without her, would anything change? Or would she go on seeing you only when it doesn't conflict with her schooling?"

"I did, once."

"How did she react?"

"She asked me if I'd seen her glasses, then she went back to what she was doing."

Shaking his head, Cas slowed the car for the speed limit going into town, "I would hate to think of that as the rest of your life, Ben. There's no doubt in my mind that she'll go on to do great things, but the emotional needs of a relationship should be a concern for those involved. It doesn't sound like she's very concerned about your feelings at all... Although I could be wrong, as I'm not a part of that, I don't monitor your every interaction."

"Maybe I should wait and tell her closer to her graduation... I don't want to make her feel like she has to leave."

"I never thought there was any implied requirements to her living there, I doubt she'd make that conclusion."

* * *

Ivan sat uncomfortably in the waiting area of the salon, having asked at the check-in for Kevin by name. Two elderly women were sitting in a stifling proximity to him, and he felt cornered.

"Do you usually see Kevin for your haircuts?" one asked, "You're a bit shaggy around the edges, but I suppose tying it back does help."

"Um-" Ivan started.

"Mine doesn't grow very fast, but sometimes I'll come in for a wash and dry, and Kevin is the best at that. With your long hair, you'll probably need a blowjob."

Ivan looked to the floor as something hard and tight rose in the back of his throat, something he was sure would have been a laugh or a choking noise, had it escaped, and he tried to discern at the edges of his vision whether his face was changing color.

"Not to worry, though, Kevin does an excellent blowjob. You should come in and see him more regularly," she said confidently as she got to her feet and met a young teenage girl at the desk, who'd just finished sitting through a haircut.

Ivan waited to take a deep breath until after the old woman had gone out the door, worried he was going to burst from a mixture of laughter and embarrassment.

"Hmph," the sound caught his attention. It was the other one. And she was less than impressed, but he couldn't tell if it was directed at him, or the one who'd just left, "You can ignore her, that old slut knows perfectly well what a blowjob is. She was dishing them out behind the old firehouse in her day."

Ivan choked on a round of hushed laughter at her candor, drawing unwanted attention from the attendant at the desk, and tried to quiet himself.

"I know I've seen you around town. You're that young singer, aren't you? The one with the loud music?"

"Uh, I'm-"

"Lowery. Yes. I can tell from your hair. My grandson has your face on a t-shirt, and every time his parents want to drag him out here to this nowhere dump of a town, they mention you, and every time, he hopes he'll get to meet you."

"I'm sorry, I don't exactly-" Ivan began, still composing himself.

"No, that's fine. This isn't Nashville, of course. But he did send me to a few of your songs on the computer, and I thought it was nice and loud. I can't hear for shit, these days, so that was a fun change. I don't know what it was called, but it had a very peppy beat... Do you know how the selfies work on phones these days? Could we send him one?"

Ivan's face lit up. In general, he tended to avoid people past a certain age, and this woman had, over the course of minutes, made him question the habit, "Yeah, of course!"

She took a very recent and overlarge phone from her purse and passed it to him. Unlocking the screen he was faced with a black and white photo of Cary Grant, the first several buttons of his shirt open, and quickly opened the camera function, setting it to forward-facing, holding it up to capture both of them as the elderly woman gave a pleasant, grandmotherly smile.

"You know," Ivan said, as he'd loosened up significantly, "My wife has the same phone, let me see... Yep, I can sign this before you send it." He popped a stylus out of the bottom edge of the phone and scrawled a hasty autograph before putting it away and passed it back to her.

"Well, if that doesn't make me the most 'Baller' granny in town, nothing will," she chuckled.

One of the nail techs came to the front and led the woman away. Ivan was still smirking over the encounter when Kevin finally appeared to collect him.

"Hey, look what the cat threw up," Kevin said loudly, giving him a once-over as the girl at the desk motioned to the sign-in book and informed Kevin that Ivan had come in for a cut.

"It's supposed to be 'dragged in,' you weirdo."

"Yeah, I might be able to get you up to that point. I just didn't want to make any promises," Kevin answered.

"C'mon, let's get this over with... Oh, and your man says hi," Ivan pretended to grumble as he followed after Kevin, who led him to a chair.

Kevin carefully drew the elastic from Ivan's hair, spreading his locks and studying his type and texture, "Yeah, well, lucky for you, I don't get jealous. How's all the lovely ladies over at your place? Holding down the fort and growing like weeds?"

"Yeah."

"Awesome... What are we doing? How far are you growing this?"

"Chop it off. Just make it look okay."

"Have you lost your damn mind?" Kevin snapped, "If somebody doesn't sue me, or your little fangirls don't hunt me down-"

"Kev, seriously. Alfie's got a point, thirty is just around the corner, and it's starting to look ridiculous, no matter what my agent says."

"So, more mature?"

"I guess. But not old."

Kevin seemed to give a physical variation of tossing an idea back and forth in his head as he thought it through, "So... 'old enough?''

"Uh... Yeah."

"Yeah, okay, don't move," Kevin said, abandoning the dark strands around Ivan's shoulders, "I gotta set up my torture chamber."

Ivan sat quietly, looking around the salon, vaguely wondering if Alfie's idea of sending him to a beauty shop had been the workings of a practical joke. The longer he considered it, the more probable it felt. Aside from Kevin, he hadn't spotted another man or boy in the entire place, and he was getting anxious. It brought to mind a sleepover his cousin had had when he was a child, and the awful pink blush his uncle had scrubbed from his cheeks afterward.

He was actually beginning to consider leaving when a woman a little younger than himself came in. She was a little larger than heavy, and a little smaller than what he'd consider fat, and her pretty face was stained with tears. She was talking quietly to a very sympathetic coworker of Kevin's, who led her to the next chair, and as she passed by, Ivan realized what had caught his attention. Despite the tears, her eyes were much like Susie's.

He caught sight of Kevin across the shop, answering a question for a young lady doing a pedicure, likely new at her job, and while he held a haircutting cape in his hand, he didn't seem to be getting any closer to using it. Ivan amused himself by listening to the conversation behind him.

"... just dumped me, just like that. He said I was the size of a house. He knows about my thyroid condition, and he said it anyway," her voice was high as she struggled to get the words out while fighting back tears, quietly venting to what he hoped was a trusted friend, "He said I'm only good for booty-calls when he's between real women, and he doesn't want to be seen with me."

Motion in the mirror to his side clued him in to Kevin's approach, and once the cape had cleared his view, he could tell from the look on Kevin's face and the glances back to the other station that he was unhappy about what he was hearing as well.

"Dude," Ivan said quietly, which got Kevin to look at him through the mirror, at which point he simply mouthed, "What the hell?"

Kevin shook his head, and almost immediately the other stylist led the girl away to wash her hair. After a quick peek over his shoulder gauging distance, Kevin quietly confirmed as he set out clips, scissors, and a comb, "She has a habit of letting guys treat her like crap. Worst part is, she thinks it's her fault."

"Are you going to talk to her?" Ivan asked.

"About what?" Kevin asked, "She got dumped, not much I can do for her, nothing to get her out of. And anyway, I've given her a pep talk a few times now, not much left to say, if she keeps hearing it from me, it's never going to sink in. All I can do right now, as much as it sucks, is mind my own business."

Frustrated, and unsure what was driving him, Ivan attempted to push his attention away from it, sitting still as Kevin began to take several inches off his hair. Soon the crying woman had come back to the chair, but the tears had stopped. At one point, still facing mostly away from her, he'd caught a glimpse in a mirror, finding she'd finished crying, and only looked down, focused on her phone as she waited for her stylist to wash out the shampooing station they'd made use of.

Holding still as a stone, Ivan considered his daughters first, and then his wife. He thought of a few of the boyfriends his mother had had, and a few times years ago when he'd willfully cause such tears himself. There had to be some sort of estrogen getting pumped into the air in this place, he was sure, and it was bringing about some kind of artificial PMS... He'd find a way to ignore it. He'd have to. It would be good practice for when he'd eventually have two teenage daughters.

The conversation had turned to her hair, and that was far easier to ignore. The rage was nearly gone as the girl's bangs had been adjusted to that 'just right length,' and he was nearly out of the woods.

In a quiet voice, her tone beaten, and past the point that tears would flow, it all came back at once, "What's wrong with me? He liked me just fine, and now this...?"

Frustrated, Ivan grabbed the counter and shakily spun the chair, causing it to wobble and shove Kevin aside as he rounded toward her, nearly landing himself on the floor. Face to face, it took him a moment to get the words out in the right order, and he startled her, "There's nothing wrong with you. He's a douche-bag. Just, a complete and total douche-bag. You need to call him up and tell him to go choke on a bag of dicks, and not to ever call you again, because he's a shitty person. I don't even know you - or him - and I'm telling you right now, you can do better than that chode."

She shook her head, clearly still uneasy, "I can't, nobody-"

"Yeah, you can. You tell him to hit the road, and you move on, and you don't put up with that kind of bullshit from that walking fuck-stain."

"Dial it back, man," Kevin said quietly, breaking the most awkward two seconds of silence Ivan felt he'd ever experienced as he realized the whole salon had gone quiet, "You're scaring the clientele."

"Sorry," Ivan muttered. Looking to the girl he'd addressed, he said it once more, a little louder, "Sorry."

She still seemed a little shaken by his outburst, and went back to looking at her phone, scrolling along the screen as her hair was being blow dried. Ivan took his own phone from his pocket, and furiously began texting Randy, pausing only to show the screen to Kevin at one point. In the mirror he saw Kevin smirk and nod, and stepped back a bit to let him turn the chair carefully.

"Hey, listen," Ivan said cautiously, "I'm sorry, that was crap. Look, I know this great guy, he's single right now, I want to set you two up on a blind date, what do you think?"

"Go for it," Kevin said quietly, encouraging her. She began to shake her head, "Tanya, you trust me with your toenails, remember? Trust me with this, go out with this guy. If you're not into him, he won't bug you afterward, he's the kind of guy you can still be friends with later."

"He's not gonna like me-"

"That is your ex talking," Ivan said quickly, "My mom had a boyfriend like that, got into her head and made her think she was worthless and that nobody would like her so he didn't have to work so hard to seem like a good option. Trust me, this guy Randy, I've known him for years, he's gonna make that other asshole look like a walking pile of shit."

"Hey," Kevin tapped Ivan's shoulder with the back of his hand, "If you were a girl, would you date him?"

Ivan looked up, somewhat alarmed at the question, "Don't ask me stuff like that, that's weird."

"Not from her point of view," Kevin answered.

Hemming and hawing slightly, Ivan eased into what he hoped was a helpful explanation of his point of view, "If I was a girl, I would probably still like girls, but this guy, we could hang out. He's not some asshole that treats women like shit."

Kevin attempted to continue taking off strands at what Ivan could only distinguish as 'at random,' while the other stylist tilted her head, "Hey, aren't you that guy? You got started in Lila Steele's band?"

"Um, yeah, I'm that guy," Ivan replied quietly.

"Oh, my god! You're Ivan Lowery?" Tanya whispered, as a quiet giggle began to develop in the back of her voice, "That is-... _He's_ a huge fan of yours!" she paused for a deep breath as her cheeks turned pink, "And you just called him-, Well, _everything!_ "

The stylist behind her cracked up so hard she had to take a step back, leaning heavily on the chair, "Oh, man I wish we had cameras in here, Tanya, if you sent him that on video, he would just die!"

Suddenly grateful for the small amount of anonymity the small town provided, Ivan quickly tensed and settled into the chair, "Yeah, well... Um..."

"You should write a song about him!" she teased, making Tanya bark out a surprised laugh.

"Dude, my man here's got a public reputation to uphold, so you two just need to cool it, okay?" Kevin argued, "No need to get this guy sued."

* * *

Despite making all of his classes on time, and one particularly arrogant TA questioning Nick's existence until he'd offered to bring in the vet bill with the date highlighted, Ben made it through the day in a haze.

He ran into Jack at one point, who helpfully suggested he take a second day, but he pressed on.

Passing a little too quickly by a huddled group, he was suddenly jostled by a girl running into his side and nearly knocking him over.

"Oh my god, I'm sorry. I didn't see there- Ben?" Millie questioned quickly once she caught sight of his face, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I mean, you roughed me up pretty good," he replied with sarcasm, "But I'm okay."

"That's not what I meant," she replied, tugging him a little further from the group who were shifting quickly and beginning to disperse, "You're a mess. What's going on?"

"Nick died," Ben replied quickly, getting the words out without a hint of emotion. He felt numb.

Millie made no sound, only stared at him in speechless empathy before pulling him into a tight hug. It wasn't until her face was outside his view that he realized she looked as though she might cry, and he wondered if she would, or if it was likely she'd cry later. The embrace lasted longer than he'd expected, and he felt her hand slip to the side of his neck as she pulled away, keeping his attention, "Are you sure you should even be here today? If you need to leave-"

"No, I took yesterday off, I can't skip any more. And anyway, other people drag their asses in dealing with a lot worse, so-"

"Look at you, though!" Millie insisted, "Okay, whatever, just, promise me you'll leave if you have to? I'll drive you if you can't, I mean, you look like you haven't slept, well, ever."

"I'm fine," Ben lied, "And that would have you missing class-"

"I'm failing anyway. At this rate, I'm gonna skip coming back next year."

Ben gave a blink of surprise, "What? Not you, too."

Millie shrugged, "Makes it faster to get to culinary school. I can't learn to be a chef here."

"That's your plan?" Ben asked, unaware they'd begun walking, and he'd fallen into step beside her.

"Yeah. Actually, I kind of have you and your sister to thank for that. Everything shifting the way it is, like, you don't always know what the job field is going to look like be the time you get your degree, and you were telling Jack that Claire made the smart move, everybody has cars, cars need fixed, and she went in looking to run the business behind it. Everybody has pets, you're going to keep healthy, so, I figure, everybody has to eat, and they're going to want it to taste good. I'm good at that part. If I get tired of being in a kitchen all day, I'll write a cookbook."

"Get your Martha Stewart on?" Ben chuckled.

Millie shrugged, "You worked in my grandma's bakery for how many weeks, and I bet you didn't once notice that if she needed something read, Aubrey would read it to her, or she'd say she didn't have her glasses, right? She's functionally illiterate, but she's got a gift, and people pay really well for her product."

"Your Gran can't read?"

"A little. Mostly she's good with numbers, but she's dyslexic. I don't know how she gets along, but she does. And despite Aubrey having been her little shadow for years until she moved."

"How is she, anyway?"

"She's fine. Still hates my guts, though, so I tell people she does meth."

Ben nodded, "I don't know if you know this, but, when we broke in that night, they told me you were going to be the one getting hit in the face with that cheesecake... I can't believe you still stood up for her, though, writing that note for Cas."

Millie chuckled, "Kirsti's still pissed about that. That's living in a small town, though, a cousin on mom's side going after a cousin on dad's side, and you don't want to see either one get hurt, and years later, neither one will speak to you, you know?"

Ben shook his head, "Not really."

She looked up at him quizzically for a moment, then shrugged, " I guess you wouldn't, huh? ...I gotta go, you still got my number, right?"

"Yeah, if you haven't changed it."

She shook her head, "Nope, still the same. Shoot me a text, okay?"

"Yeah, I gu-" Ben was cut off as she threw a tight arm around his middle for a split second before taking off in another direction.

Resuming his journey to his next lecture, he considered the number he still had in his phone, certain he wasn't going to use it.

* * *


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: Um... I don't really have much to add to this... It was more exciting to write than proof-read. Sorry. Big stuff coming soon.)

* * *

Over the sound of three little girls of varying sizes playing happily in the room across the stairs from them, Alfie and Ivan were shuffling through most of the mess of papers left out from the day before.

"Is that-... What is that?" Ivan asked, tilting his head.

Looking up, Alfie shrugged, "That's a crushed soda can."

"Why did you sketch that?"

"It was there. I was waiting on the bus."

Ivan let his words settle in his mind, "The bus? How old is this?"

Alfie shrugged.

"Oh... That one's cool," Ivan said, having come across two shapes much like bodies entwined with hints of a double helix being worked out of their design.

Alfie chuckled, "Man, I thought I'd lost that."

"You were telling the truth, right? Nothing naked actually started that way?" Ivan asked quietly.

"Yeah, this was actually from a picture Margaret took of me and Claire during that halloween thing in town. She was pregnant, couldn't do anything fun, and it was right before Ben took off, and got picked up by the cops."

"Oh, shit. Yeah, that was a while ago," Ivan said thoughtfully, "So, you guys were practically getting it on right there in the street while Margaret was taking pictures?"

Alfie laughed as he got up from the floor, "No, look, I'll find the original."

"I don't know if I need to see that," Ivan replied, turning around so he could face the screen.

After some digging, Alfie pulled up a retouched photo of himself and Claire, a few years younger, laughter playing on their faces as their eyes had met, the distance of the background contrasting with the closeness of their bodies in an embrace where Alfie had been sitting patiently, and Claire had walked up to put her arms around his shoulders. He selected a drop-down menu, and a new image surfaced, one with much of the details stripped away, lines had been simplified, and finally brought in tight, revealing only the shape of the two bodies.

"Damn," Ivan said quietly, comparing the image to the pencil drawing in his hand, "And then you drew this one off of that?"

"Nah, that's what I doodled while trimming the photo down to what you see here, that just helped me decide what to remove."

"And then, what?" Ivan asked, "What happens after you remove all that stuff you took out?"

"What? Like, where does it go? It gets erased." Alfie scoffed.

"No, where do you go from there? Where does this thing with the hug, these few squiggly lines, where does that take you? What do you do to it now that that part's done?"

"Oh, uh... Well, for this one, that's where I got stuck. I could see the shape, you know, of the-"

"DNA," Ivan mused, looking down at the light swirling lines, "Which is funny, because it's the two of you, DNA combines, makes Melody, and 'melody' is one of the things I'm getting stuck with."

Alfie went quiet, then shrugged one shoulder, "You could take the tune out of the equation completely. Publish a book of poetry."

Ivan snorted in response, "Right. And you're going to take your still images, add motion, and produce my next video."

A creeping change of expression inched through Alfie's features, "Why not?"

"Okay, but in all serious-"

"No, I mean that. Why not? Get your lyrics out of your head, you'll have room for new stuff, and one suck-ass video won't end things for you. We really only have ourselves to limit this thing, right?"

Ivan slowly set down the drawing as he considered the possibilities, "Okay, well... Yeah, I guess... Oh, and my 'lead handler,' my less shitty version of Naomi? She saw my hair. She's probably on the next flight out to kick your ass."

Alfie gave a soft snort, "She'll calm down when your fans start freaking out for it. There was a reason I told you to go to Kevin."

"Doesn't look like crap?"

"Nah, looks good. What did Julie say?"

"She hasn't seen it yet. Just did it today, before I picked up the girls from school," Ivan replied.

"And what did they say?"

"Cyndi hates it, Susie says it's okay."

Alfie nodded, "Cool... So, you know this is going to get weird, right?"

"What are you talking about? You're involved, it can't be normal. You just keep all the dog shit and nipples to yourself, and everything will be fine."

"Yeah, but-"

"Those rumors about you and Kevin? Which you guys seem to encourage? Yeah, I know. And I won't say one thing or another about any of that, that's your business, and people are going to talk anyway, but if you imply any of that crap with me-"

"No, that-"

"Julie's gonna laugh her ass off, and I can't have that."

Alfie burst with laughter, "Right. No, can't have her laughing at you."

"She'll never let me live it down. One idiot started a rumor I was banging this bassist from Kentucky, and she-"

"Oh my god," Alfie interjected quietly.

"She was texting me pictures of big hairy guys in chaps for weeks."

Chuckling, Alfie shook his head, "Don't worry about it, we'll just have Julie and Kevin show up at the same time with us somewhere public if that happens, it'll shut everything up."

"Kevin? Not Claire?"

Alfie shrugged, "The public believes what it wants to believe, and the public decided Claire was a paid actress. Naomi said to roll with it... There's a couple weird conspiracy theories online, they're all way off, and the less I say, the more they talk. And Melody doesn't exist."

* * *

The looks cast over the dinner table had spoken volumes, despite Ben's haze of unaware apparent delirium.

After several suspicious glances and shrugs which seemed to indicate that Dean was very concerned, Cas wasn't certain what was going on, and neither wanted to be the one to broach the subject, Cas turned slowly toward Ben, "Um, Ben, if you want to talk-"

"Are you high right now?" Dean blurted out.

Ben sat back in his seat with a look of permanent defeat. "I wish," he whispered disconsolately.

Silence chilled the room once more, and Dean soon realized he was staring at Ben, who didn't seem to be properly seeing anything at all.

"Ben, you-"

"What if I'm already dead, and this is hell? Dead dog, dead baby, dead mom, bitchy girlfriend-"

"You've been under a lot of stress lately," Cas offered gently.

Ben shook his head, "Maybe that's it. And this is supposed to be the best part of my life, right? Everything is downhill from here, and I've barely gotten started. Or maybe I'm just doing it wrong. Maybe everything I've done up to this point is wrong. Maybe I should drop out like Xander did and go work in a gas station. Just like taking a gallon of gas and a match to everything I've tried to do from the very beginning."

"Are you serious?" Dean asked. Cas noted a hint of panic creeping into Dean's voice.

Ben crossed his arms at an odd angle as a chuckling bubbled up along with tears, and Cas couldn't tell if the tears were related to the laughter, or if stress had finally taken such a toll that he'd given in.

"Ben, you're worrying us," Cas said quietly as Dean watched intently, unsure of how to proceed.

Ben barked out a laugh, "I'm done. Maybe I don't even exist, and all of this isn't actually happening! And you know what? It's not even my problem."

"What the hell does that mean?" Dean asked.

"It's not my problem," Ben reiterated, "She's not my problem, she doesn't want to be, or she's tired of it. Either way, I'm done. Finished."

The fear in Dean's eyes grew as Ben quickly got up from the table, marching straight for the front door, and he stood up quickly to follow him only to feel a tight twinge at having moved too fast, causing him to lean heavily on the table as Cas went to the living room if only to prevent Dean from attempting it.

"Where the hell are you going?" Dean called.

"To get my car," Ben answered.

"I'll drive you over," Cas offered quickly.

"No," Ben answered, "No, just stay here. I need the walk."

"Ben, please," Cas said, the words spilling out as Ben reached for the knob of the front door with no intention of slowing down, "Don't do anything stupid."

No sooner had he said it than Ben gave a yank, and the door's edge flung into Ben's face, catching him in the side of the nose. After taking a step back to regain his coordination, and check that he wasn't bleeding, Ben shook his head, "Okay, aside from that, just now, this is the smartest I've ever felt, okay? I'm fine. I swear."

The door soon closed behind him, and Cas turned back to Dean in disbelief, "I should have stopped him."

"How?" Dean asked, "We can't exactly tackle him and keep him here."

"I could have," Cas replied, moving to look out the living room window before realizing he wouldn't be able to see Ben anyway.

"What do you think," Dean asked, slowly coming to stand next to Cas, "Everything just stacked up, maybe some mid-term pushed him over the edge?"

"I have no idea," Cas replied, "But I'd be less worried about him 'just getting his car,' if it were you, or Claire. That would be very literal. With Ben, I'm not so sure."

* * *

Caitlin had grown used to the quiet of the house set back from the highway, overlooking the lights of the town through some nearby trees, and the obnoxious banging at the back door had made her jump out of her own skin. She hadn't even realized it had been coming from the back door until she'd gotten to the middle of the house and it had sounded loudly to the wrong side of her.

The wind was blowing roughly, tossing the tree branches about, and farther up the hill, as she opened the door, she could see the yard lights in the junk yard, not close enough to be an annoyance.

Ben filled the door frame, but didn't move to come in.

"I need my keys back."

"Okay. I just need to know how I'm getting to the campus in the morning."

Ben shrugged, "Don't know, don't care. Call a friend."

Caitlin went to the end table by the couch where her purse sat, retrieving his car keys, "You're not picking me up in the morning, are you?"

Irritated by her tone, Ben grinned, "You're smart. You'll figure something out. Also, I'm moving in, in the other end of the house, probably next month. I don't really care what you tell your folks about that, but I'm happy to take a look at the bills as they come in and cut your dad a check for half."

"Something's different," Caitlin said, narrowing her eyes.

"Yeah," Ben replied, his tone harsh, "I finally got it through my head, you're too socially repressed to know how to break up with somebody, so I'm ending it for you. You're welcome."

Caitlin scoffed, "Are you that desperate for my attention? You have to come down here and throw a tantrum?"

"This is not a tantrum."

"And I guess if I agreed to a tentative engagement, you wouldn't calm down and let things go back to normal?" Caitlin asked, leaving Ben surprised she didn't roll her eyes as she said it.

"It's over, Caitlin. I'm breaking up with you. You can keep living here until you finish school, as a roommate, but we both know there's nothing here for you after that, and then you're gone."

She paused for a brief moment before letting out a breath and shaking her head, "You're emotional. Your dog just died. Here, take your keys, and we can discuss it when you calm down."

Ben accepted the keys from her, looking her in the eye, "There's nothing to discuss. The relationship is gone. I'm done. Maybe you'll have the balls to break up with the next guy."

Caitlin scoffed, "So you don't love me anymore, and you're moving in here? That's not contradicting at all."

"You better go call around and figure out your ride," Ben gave as a non-answer before walking away from the door.

Caitlin stepped closer and leaned out into the back yard as he started toward the corner to collect his car from the driveway in front of the house, "Is this about Millie? ...Debra said she saw you with her today, and I told her she was crazy. Thanks for making me a liar, you backstabbing jerk!"

Ben turned around without stepping any closer, "Nothing has happened with Millie in a long time. I never cheated on you. I'm just done."

"And how am I supposed to believe you?" Caitlin snapped.

Ben shrugged with a chuckle as he continued toward his car, "Believe anything you want, it's still not my problem."

* * *

Dean lay curled up on his side, his chin and lips pressed against Cas' bare knee, arm curled around his thigh, keeping his belly away from Cas' hip as Cas gently reached past his ribs to stroke Dean's back. The bedroom was dark but for the light of the lamp on the bedside table, "You're still not feeling well... I don't think you should keep going into the shop, your recovery seems to be going backwards."

"It was a rough day," Dean mumbled.

"A couple more days in bed won't kill you. Overdoing it, however-"

"Will only put my ass back in bed, so it doesn't matter either way."

"Let me take care of you," Cas groused, "Otherwise I'll be forced to be as overbearing as you get the moment I blow my nose."

"You could blow something else," Dean grumbled.

"If I thought you could handle it, I would," Cas replied, continuing to stroke Dean's back lightly, both well aware that it wasn't a serious exchange, "At least everything calmed down after dinner..."

"Think he's serious?" Dean asked.

"About breaking up with her and moving into that house while she's still there? I can only see that going wrong, or becoming something else entirely. He'd mentioned proposing to her the other day, but it was in the context of breaking things off."

"Proposing?" Dean asked, raising his head, "Hold on, what did he say?"

Cas shrugged, "It was in passing. Mostly he was fixated on the fact that Caitlin doesn't put him first at any point, and she's been very controlling lately."

"Did you say anything about that?"

"Of course. He's young and stupid, and she might be relationship material eventually, but right now... I couldn't bear to see any of the kids in an arrangement like that."

Dean settled his chin against Cas' knee once more, relaxing into the long, strong sweeps of his firm hand.

"Speaking of kids..."

"Hm?"

"I overheard this, so of course it's still up in the air, and also private, but Claire's considering having another baby."

A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of Dean's mouth, but was erased quickly with a critical grunt, "In that tiny house? Even if it's another girl, Mel's gonna want her own room, she doesn't share well."

"That's what got me thinking, as I was always going to leave the house to Claire, anyway, and now that the boys are..."

"There we go, empty nest," Dean mumbled, "Okay, I'm listening."

"I thought, maybe we should trade houses. Give Melody a yard to run around in, and we'd have a smaller space to keep up."

Dean rolled onto his back to look up at Cas, "You're sure that's what you want to do? Go live in Bobby's old house, with the yard lights keeping us awake-"

"We'll get blackout curtains," Cas answered.

"What about the noise from the shop?"

Cas shot a glance toward the empty bedroom that had once been Claire's, and more recently, Xander's, "It's too quiet here. When Ben moves out, it'll be worse. That house, with hardly anything of a lawn, small, quickly cleaned rooms, it's built for-"

"Don't you dare say it-"

"-smaller families... What?"

"Thought you were going to say 'retirement.' And we are not retirement age, not for a good long time. Hell, some folks wait this long just to start having kids, so-"

"Dean, please shut up," Cas said tiredly, before shifting to lay down next to him, "It would take some time, of course, and we can turn the other room into a guest room, in case anyone needs it-"

"Bringing home strays," Dean muttered.

"But it might be best to start considering what we have and downsizing, putting things in storage, that sort of thing. Assuming Claire even wants this place."

Dean shrugged, "As hard as she pushed for the 'no kids in the yard,' rule, she'd probably be all for it."

* * *

"Helix?" Claire repeated, "Would that mean just one spiral, though? And you said this was because the double-helix was a good representation of the project? Why not double-helix? That, you know, two points circling a central point, but that's just one."

"It's artistic license."

"Attach either of your names to a pile of puke, and somebody would pay for it," Claire answered, reaching to scoop another serving of the very late dinner onto her plate. Alfie watched her hands with interest as she moved, and she caught him at it, "What?"

"I've been out of the shop so long, that your hands are rougher than mine, now."

Claire gave him a questioning look, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing... And everything. And it's personal, and at the same time, it's not."

Pushing the awkward angle of the discussion from her mind, Claire shrugged it off, took a swig of her beer and resumed eating, "So, simplified design from the photo, keep talking."

"Claire, are you happy?"

Claire looked up mid-chew, "What?"

"You do it because you love your work, right? The long hours, running yourself into the ground, the blisters, the sweat, the crappy customers and seeing the business doubling, crunching numbers and changing brake pads, that's what you want your life to be like?"

Having cleared her mouth, Claire shrugged, "You aren't exactly making it sound that great right now, but-"

"You genuinely enjoy it?"

"The cars part, yes. Paperwork, I could do without, but then I wouldn't have control of the business, and I only went to school to learn how to, y'know, hold the reins."

"But at the same time, you've got the second shop opening, and you think we should have another child. I've got this happening, and I'm just wondering how do we make it all work? That balance we need, so everything works... I mean, small stuff, like, we still have the crib, and everything, but..."

"But, what?"

"I, um... I guess we could build a house down the road from your dad's, maybe? Extend the driveway a bit, pave the dirt road-"

"Don't."

"Right... I guess with Mel starting school soon, and the second shop, maybe we should look at moving into town, huh?"

"I'm not ready to talk about this stuff just yet, okay? It slipped out! I don't know what I want, okay?" Claire snapped.

"Yes, you do. That's how it slipped out. Now that it's out there, you're scared."

"Don't push me-"

Alfie raised his hands in a questioning gesture, "I'm not. You, on the other hand, you're the one who quit taking your pill."

"You went through my pills?"

"I glanced at the card in the bathroom drawer while grabbing a fresh razor. It wasn't intentional. Also, sorry, gotta play the 'husband card' on this one. Not having a baby can be your decision alone, but having one involves me too, and you should have told me about it."

"Okay, fine. You want an argument?"

"No!" Alfie replied more sternly than he meant to, "I am trying to do my part to set up for this, to make it easier on everybody, and you're putting off important decisions while being reckless about others."

"Maybe I don't want to have to think about it!" Claire replied. Shocked at the volume of her own voice, physically she curled smaller in her chair and looked away from him as she reached for her beer.

Alfie waited until his own breathing had calmed, listening closely to hear if Melody had gotten up, but no upstairs floorboards creaked, "Okay... Claire, I'm listening,all right? If you're getting this emotional already, emotional enough that I asked you if you were already pregnant, I get that this is a big deal, and I know you, and I'm going to hear you out, even if you start crying. Just, please, tell me what the hell is going on with you? Because I am completely lost."

"It was easier with Mel. No planning, just, she's on the way, and then she's here, and everything that needed to happen, it happened. It all fell into place. I didn't have a new shop to run, you didn't have a huge fucking project starting, and we didn't have to move. She just fell into place with everybody, and everything that was already going on, and everything worked," she took a deep breath, fighting back the sobs that Alfie had predicted, "And now... now, even though I said I never wanted kids, didn't want to be a mom, I've got a steady career I can do for the rest of my life, or, if I wanted, drop completely, even though it could screw up everything, for all of us, lose the new shop, tank your project, stress our marriage and ruin it, and make us have to move, all of that, and I can't stop wanting to have another child, okay?"

Alfie leaned his elbow on the table as he attempted to process the statements that had spilled forth from her, and when he did speak again, it was quiet, "So you'd rather just get pregnant and see what happens?"

"No! That's stupid!"

"Okay, logically, it's stupid, but is that what would make it easier on you?"

"I don't know," she complained.

Alfie nodded, "I think I get it... Okay, so, how about this... Pretend you are. Not telling anybody, of course. And we see where it goes before we start trying, and see if stuff falls into place... Either it will, like it did before, then we do, or it won't, and we think about what needs to change."

"Pretend?"

"Yeah, we just sort of have a... a hypothetical pregnancy for now, and let's figure that, at this point, I need to be available and in town at least for appointments, right? And we check that all the baby gear in the garage is in good shape. We plan where to put the crib-" Alfie stood quickly and pulled her beer, half-drank and nearly to her lips from her hand, "Vitamins, no booze, you know, everything as it should be, if it were true... Personally, considering we could run out and buy a four-bed three-bath tomorrow, I don't even see any reason for you to go back on the pill, either, if you don't want to, if you want to be sure it's out of your system before anything happens for real. We'll just keep being careful. You have to make sure you're eating right and try to lower your stress, though, so... Actually, maybe you should pull up a calendar, make some fake appointments, and we'll start hitting a park or something during those times and just talk and hang out for a while?"

"Stop it," Claire said quietly.

"Stop what?"

"Being the smart one. I'm supposed to be the smart one. You're the trophy wife."

Alfie's grin was untameable as it took over his face, "I'm the trophy wife? Me? ... Right."

"Yeah, you are. You stay home, take care of the kid, do your nails and make dinner."

"I wouldn't change it for anything," Alfie said quietly, sipping her beer, "You better finish your dinner. We gotta get upstairs so you can fake knock me up."

* * *


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: Okay, this is a whole lot of action outlining a difficult day, but doesn't actually propel the story forward by much. Finished it and came within a centimeter of scrapping it as a chapter and loading it as a deleted scene side-story. Meh. Doing it anyway.
> 
> Thanks for reading! FW)

* * *

Behind the front desk, Dean was laboriously putting orders into the computer one at a time, while triple-checking the part numbers. It had been ten minutes since he'd clocked in, but Cas' suggestion of another day or two in bed was looking better every minute.

At the sound of the door opening, he looked up, and was surprised to see Claire going straight for the recently installed single-serve coffee machine with a yawn.

"Long night?" Dean asked.

Waiting on her cup to brew, Claire pulled her phone from her pocket, opened her photo gallery, and passed it to him before she went back to the coffee station in the tiny waiting area.

"What exactly am I... Oh... Damn."

Onscreen, Dean flipped through several photos of Melody, sitting at an odd angle on the kitchen counter, bare feet, pajamas getting too short for her thin limbs, and her wild dark blonde locks askew, with several pieces of what he assumed were at one point an assembled coffee maker.

"So, she just went and-"

"There's video," Claire answered, "I told her I'm taking the cost of it out of her first car, so make sure you don't delete that."

Dean opened the video as Claire went for the office with her coffee, and watched with growing amusement.

 _"What are you doing?" "I'm fixing it." "It was fixed enough already." "I'm fixing it, Mom. Chill out."_ Claire, in the video but off screen, choked away a laugh, and Melody let one tiny, grubby foot drop from the edge, _"Look at it, though, there's parts everywhere. It's broken, and I can't make coffee." "I'm putting it back when I'm done." "When is that?"_ A sarcastic look crossed the tiny face, and Dean knew exactly where Melody got it from, _"After I fix it. And then I'll make the coffee, but it'll be better coffee." "Oh. You're making better coffee?" "Yeah. It won't taste like dirt. It's gonna be cocoa."_

Claire's laughter came through the speaker at that point, along with a few other questions, and eventually Alfie appeared, completely unconcerned until Melody asked him to wear part of the coffee maker as a hat.

Returning to clock in and get her phone, Claire asked about a delayed customer appointment, and Dean was busily looking up the record, "So she thinks coffee tastes like dirt, huh? How much dirt has she tasted?"

With a chuckle, Claire shrugged, "If she was curious, she'd find out."

"Yeah, I don't doubt it... Listen, your dad is starting to get worried about having her right smack in the middle of the yard, like that. All those safety concerns you twisted my arm on-"

"She doesn't leave the house without an adult, even to play on the grass."

"Yeah, but, it's Mel. Eventually, she's going to get it into her head that she knows better than you."

"She did that last year," Claire replied confidently.

"Terrible twos have nothing on age four. Trust me. Look it up if you don't believe me. Anyway, Ben's making plans to move out, and your dad is going to make this into a long discussion that could be a short one. Do you want to switch houses?"

"Switch houses?" Claire asked with a startled blink.

"You're supposed to get it later anyway."

"Yeah? And what are Ben and Xander gonna get if I get the house?" she asked, pulling a clipboard from the drawer beside him.

"Stuff. Don't worry about it. Worry about your kid being exactly like you, no fear, with the added benefit of Mr Abstract-thinking making her unpredictable. You said no kids in the yard, you can't make exceptions."

She gave a heavy sigh and shrugged, "I'm right in the middle of this- I've got to meet the building inspector at two, and go over the ad for the paper-"

"Just think about it. Nothing's happening right now," Dean said, attempting to calm her as she began hurriedly looking around the top of the desk. He held up her preferred pen that had fallen behind the keyboard the night before.

"Yeah, okay," she answered, taking the pen, "I'll think about it."

* * *

Upon his arrival at work, Cas had left his office door open, and was quite aware when a loud, and very young voice filled up the front desk, talking over Hannah.

"-I don't care! I'm a person, not an animal, and she just cut off a chunk of my hair, and if I don't get to call my mom, I'm going to stay right here, wasting your time so you can't get any work done, either! She has no right-"

"Please, calm down-"

"I will not calm down! I don't care who she is, she can't do that!"

He hurried out into the front of the office to find Hannah attempting to reason with a student who was, if her face was any indication, very near a full blown tearful screaming fury. There were a few thin streaks of blue that showed at the bottom of her otherwise dark hair, and one place close to her face where there likely should have been one, but instead, there was a short, lopped-off clump.

"Fiona, you need to go back to class," Hannah attempted to reason with her, "We'll contact your mother for you and let her know. I'll walk you back and speak to your teacher. She won't do it again."

Cas came up behind Hannah, setting a hand on her shoulder, "What happened?"

"She pulled on my hair because she thought it was a clip-in, and then she cut it off!" Fiona burst, "I wasted all my birthday money on getting my hair like this, and picture day is three days away, and I can't even get it fixed!"

"Maybe you could pull it back on that side and hide it," Hannah suggested.

"You gotta be fucking kidding me!" Fiona growled quietly, gaining a gasp from the new hire doing clerical work close by.

"Ms Rowland, would you please relieve the teacher in question and ask them to join us in my office?" Cas said quickly, ushering the girl toward his door.

He thought he caught a displeased look from Hannah as she left the front office, but he wasn't certain. Fiona paused outside the office door and glance back the way they'd come before looking up at Cas, "Can we leave the door open?"

"Of course," Cas answered quickly, "Or we could have the school counselor sit in, if that makes you more comfortable."

"I just want the door open," Fiona said quietly.

Cas nodded, and led the way inside, beckoning her to sit down in front of his desk as he stepped around it. He picked up the handset on the large desk phone, pressed the correct buttons to dial out, and then turned the base around to face her, passing her the handset. As she began to dial, he turned his attention to the computer in front of him, and made a brief note of items in Fiona's file before pulling up another window for the teacher involved. He listened closely as Fiona recounted her story to her mother, her hand absently feeling out the missing chunk of hair.

Tears were flowing much more freely after speaking to her mother, and Cas silently pulled a tissue box from the top of a nearby cabinet and set them down within her reach as he busied himself with the information on the screen.

Running out of ways to look preoccupied, Cas glanced at the open doorway, wondering what was taking the teacher. Fiona held the handset out to him, "She wants to talk to you."

* * *

Lucas and Blake had arrived at roughly the same time, and were discussing a football game as they'd clocked in and got to work, mostly ignoring Dean's uncomfortable, if resigned presence in the desk chair. They'd quickly shuffled off to the garage afterward, going about their work, one ready to complete an unfinished repair, and the other to do inventory.

Dean had been expecting Randy when the door opened again, but only looked up from the computer screen when he realized the sound of the footsteps coming toward him were of a very different gait.

"I knew you'd be here, you son of a bitch. You never leave."

Later, he would blame the pain pills for slowing his cognition, and the recent surgery for his slow response. He leaned back in the chair to attempt to hide evidence of both and put on a cool, collected appearance while the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, and he looked for some explanation for the reaction he felt in his gut, "Kip... Last time I saw you, I'm pretty sure I told you not to come back."

The younger man was older than Claire, but younger than Randy, the age difference barely of note anymore. Years of substances unfit for human consumption had left him looking gaunt and sickly, and his hair was thinning prematurely. He noticed the jacket Kip wore right away, threadbare and abused, but still far too warm for the day's weather.

Kip scoffed before a sneer crossed his face, "You still taking orders from your pet bimbo?"

"You were using-"

"She said I was, so it must be true, right?" Kip snapped, raising his voice.

"You were using, and stealing from me while under my roof, and Ben was the one who found your stash!" Dean growled, "Right up until Ben was brought into it, I would have helped you get clean any way I could, but you put my kid at risk, and then you had the guts to come tell me to my face that Claire fired you for telling a dirty joke?"

"She did!"

"Right, no, because Bobby Singer left a crack pipe and three rocks in a kleenex box under my couch! So when Ben found them and showed Claire, is that what you call a dirty joke? Because I'm not laughing!"

Kip shook his head far too hard, and Dean heard someone moving though the hallway quickly as Kip reached back below his jacket, and pulled a pistol from his waistband.

The gun was tiny, only a .22 caliber, cheap and poorly maintained. He was well aware that the aim would be poor, especially were the target in motion, but at such close range, it wouldn't make a difference. The amount of powder in the brass behind the bullet wasn't strong enough to cause exit wounds in most cases, and a wound from this particular weapon would need a good deal of luck or skill to be fatal.

"You just took her word over mine!"

"Of course I did," Dean replied firmly, despite the barrel aimed at his face, "I trust her. Now put it down."

"She lied!" Kip yelped, making the tiny pistol in his hand bounce slightly as Dean tried to remember how much force it would take to penetrate skull bone, and whether the gun was capable of it.

"About what?" Claire's voice calm from the edge of the hallway, clear as a bell. Dean felt his stomach lurch against already sore muscles as Kip turned his attention, but thankfully not his firearm, toward Claire, "What did I lie about? Also, Lucas is calling the cops, so you should ditch, like, yesterday. Leave town, even."

Pointing with his free hand, Kip gestured to her with harsh, angry motions, "You just shut the fuck up! This doesn't concern you!"

"Bullshit, it doesn't!" Claire answered angrily.

It was all a blur for him at the time, dampened by adrenaline and pain, he had to piece it together later on from security footage, but Randy had fortuitously chosen that moment to enter the building. Distracted and concerned by the sound of the door so soon after being told law enforcement had been alerted, Kip turned where he stood to look behind him, clumsily attempting to keep his aim on Dean.

Claire saw it as an opening, however, quickly climbing onto the desk while shoving Kip's arm up toward the ceiling as the gun went off, the height making it easy for her weight to take him to the floor on the other side of the desk. Hearing the gunshot, Randy kicked the gun out of Kip's hand as soon as he spotted it, and before Dean realized he'd even moved to get out of the chair, he was pulling Claire off of Kip's near emaciated frame. She tugged out of his grasp just long enough to punch Kip in the face before Dean managed to drag her away as she tried to land another blow, and Randy, heavier and somewhat bear-like, dragged Kip outside leaving the pistol sitting on the floor below the desk.

"Are you hit?" Dean asked, tugging Claire around by the shoulder and looking her up and down, checking her clothing and visible skin for any hint of red before she'd even had time to steady herself, "What the hell was that? What were you thinking?!"

"I didn't have time to think, dumbass! He had a gun pointed at your face!" Claire fussed as she tried to step away, bringing a hand to her opposite elbow. Dean spun her around to check the elbow finding it scraped with a few drops of blood, but no bullet wound.

"Lucas?" Dean called down the hallway before turning back to Claire, "That was the stupidest thing I've ever seen, and I've seen a lot. You _ever_ step between me and some asshole with a gun again, and I will kick your ass myself."

"Like you could! You're a mess, Dean! Sit down before you fall over," Claire argued, pointing to the couch below the window as Lucas came to the doorway, his phone to his ear, "Where's Blake?"

"He was in the yard pulling a fuel door," Lucas answered quietly, "They're about two minutes away."

"No, tell 'em it was a misunderstanding," Dean said quietly as he became more unstable on his feet and moved to sit down as Claire had insisted, pointing below the desk, "He dropped the gun, as long as nobody's hurt-"

"No! Don't tell them that, you keep them on the phone," Claire ordered, then addressed Dean, "He just put every single one of us at risk, and you're in no shape to make decisions."

"I can make decisions, I'm not the one jumping in front of a gun! Nobody's hurt, he's disarmed, tell Randy to let him leave!" Dean insisted as Claire opened the door, ducking her head out.

Randy had pinned his shoulder against Kip's back, holding him face-first against the side of the building not two feet from the door, and gave Claire a questioning look as Kip continued to struggle.

"Looks like you've got this. Sheriff's department is on the way, don't let him leave."

* * *

Having sent Fiona to wait for her mother in the front office of the school, Cas felt he was running low on time as he finally addressed the teacher, Mrs Wheeler, in his now closed office.

"I have a list of supposed dress code violations you've sent her to the office for this year. You know Polk has a district approved exception to the code they have in place."

Mrs Wheeler rolled her eyes, "Yes, two words, 'common sense.' But she's not going to get anywhere in life with blue hair!"

"Maryann, it is my job not only to protect the students at this school, but also the teachers. On paper, you have assaulted a minor with a sharp object, and destroyed not only personal property, but literally removed part of her body against her will. She told me personally that she was afraid to attend your class for fear you'd do it again. That's psychologically damaging."

"That's a load of hooey, and you know it!" Mrs Wheeler objected.

"No. It's not. Now, apart from where we differ on matters of personal appearance of the students, you are a very effective instructor, you somehow manage to get incredible results from both advanced students and those falling behind, you get their attention and keep them interested, and it would be a great loss if, say, a lawsuit forced our hand. Her mother will be here any minute. As much as I hate to do this, I intend to minimize the damage as much as possible. This is the only time I intend to do this for you, and should you so much as send a student in for 'spaghetti straps,' my cooperation is off the table."

Sputtering and fuming, Mrs Wheeler began to shake her head, preparing to argue, but Cas cut her off.

"You're very lucky this particular family doesn't have the time or money for a legal battle, but if this goes public, your career, and likely your pension, are at risk. I'm going to strongly suggest you grovel."

"Grovel?" she was aghast.

"Yes. Can you afford to have her hairstyle fixed or redone?"

"On my wages? You've got to be joking! I have to get my daughter to cut mine at home."

Cas was about to suggest she offer Fiona the same service to repair the damages, but with a quick glance at her own hair, he realized that was far from an acceptable suggestion. With a sigh, he pulled a business card from his wallet, thankful for once for his normally well-managed pack-rat tendencies, and began dialing on his desk phone, "Fine. I'll cover the damages, but you'll be responsible for whatever additional placating this is going to take."

"Placating! Honestly!"

"Yes, honestly. You went too far this time. And frankly, if you put your hands on a student again, I'll take it public myself."

* * *

Dean was livid despite the pain and wear as he listened intently to the sound of Claire's voice speaking to the deputy outside. He'd heard vague murmuring he assumed had been Kip being cuffed, read his rights, and a car door closing, and now Claire was recounting his history with the business, with the family, and what she knew of what had happened that day.

" _You can talk to him if you like, but he's recovering from surgery, and he really overdid it today. I need to get him home. If you can put it off till tomorrow, that might be best. He's not going anywhere._ "

Dean put a hand on the back of the couch, determined to get up and make his way outside if it required dragging himself, but Lucas, sitting on the desk, raised an eyebrow.

"What?" Dean asked.

Lucas shrugged, "She said you don't leave the couch until she says so."

"And you're gonna stop me?"

"If I come over there and sit on your lap, you're stuck. But that would get weird fast."

Dean caved and leaned back as the door opened once more, and Claire lead the deputy inside. She pointed out the location of the tiny pistol, where it had been kicked to, and the deputy quickly took a photograph before gingerly collecting it in a plastic bag.

"Did anyone else touch it?"

Claire shrugged, "Randy's boot, and I might have bumped into it when I put Kip on the floor, but nobody's picked it up, if that's what you mean."

"And you said you have cameras in here?"

"Yeah," Claire answered, "It's all online, I can give you an access code for the security company."

"You can call it in, I can get out of your hair, and-..." the deputy stopped in his tracks, looking at Dean's belly, "Sir, did you get shot when the gun went off?"

Dean looked down to find a small dot of red on his shirt, but upon pulling his shirt up to check it, he shook his head, "Nope. Popped a stitch. It happens, just needs a bandaid, I'll be fine."

Claire shook her head, "I'll take him in, get him checked over."

"You won't. Also, I'm not pressing charges."

The deputy gestured to Claire, "Sir, she's a manager here, and from the sound of things, you're a little too close to this, and possibly on some kind of painkillers?"

"He's on vicodin," Claire commented, as her eyes shot daggers at Dean.

"Right, well, I gotta do my job. I can't have this guy running around shooting at people, and if I can't charge him, get him off the street, he's probably going to come back."

"Thank you," Claire said quietly, turning to the deputy, "I'll see what I can do to change his mind, but the house further up the road is where he's going to be all week, even if I have to block him in."

The deputy shrugged, "Well, he's your dad, you know, you gotta take care of family. But if he calls us to complain-"

"He won't."

After a quick photo of the tiny bullet hole in the ceiling, Claire accompanied the deputy back outside. He strained his ears, but from his position on the couch, heard nothing of detail until the deputy's car drove away.

Claire quickly returned, followed by Blake and Randy, and less expectedly, Xander, who'd arrived as the deputy was wrapping up and readying to leave.

Shifting forward to sit on the edge of the couch, hiding how precarious his balance was, Dean addressed the group once the door closed, "Okay, we've all had a rough morning, and we haven't even gotten started for that day. Now-"

"You're bleeding. Are they going to have to restitch that?" Claire asked quickly.

"No. That would just do more damage, it's mostly he-"

"Xander, take Dad home and make sure he has everything he needs. If you think he might try to come back over here, take his keys."

"Hey!" Dean objected.

"We don't have a lot to do today, anybody who'd rather take a personal day, after what just happened, that's fine. When we're done, though, we're closing early. I'll leave a note on the door to honk and come run intake if anyone needs to drop off for a repair. I want everybody in here on time tomorrow, and-"

"Just who the hell put you in charge?" Dean asked gruffly.

Claire turned around, "You did."

"Yeah, but-"

"Because I'll tell you when you're wrong, remember? Because I can make hard decisions fast, and get people to listen, right? Now you're gonna go home, and you're not coming in before Saturday. Don't make me call Sam."

Xander looked fairly confused at her comment, but she gestured him towards Dean, and Xander quickly pulled him from the couch. Once on his feet, it was evident that the morning had taken quite a bit out of him, and he did in fact need the physical support.

"...Can't believe this shit," Dean muttered, "I mean, I deal with a lot of crap from you kids-"

"Mutiny!" Lucas declared from his spot on the desk.

Claire rounded on him, "Don't start."

"Gonna make me walk the plank?" Lucas asked.

"Go home."

Lucas put his hands up defensively, "Whoa, hold up. I'm sorry. Not appropriate, black humor, sorry. And Dean, sorry, yeah, no mutiny. We're all glad he didn't shoot you."

Dean shook his head as Xander tugged him along outside, helping him to the black Impala, the presence a gentle reminder that he hadn't had the energy to walk to the shop that morning.

It was his own helplessness that he found the most upsetting.

* * *

Fiona had calmed down as she waited, but upon seeing the damage to her daughter's hair, her mother seemed to take on a brand new fury on her daughter's behalf. Cas had gathered them into his office with the teacher, and purposefully left the door open.

"Let me start by saying, Ms Billet, that I appreciate your time, I know it's hard to leave work on short notice," Cas said quietly, taking a seat behind his desk, "Fiona has every reason to be very upset by a drastic misinterpretation of our school dress code. The language is vague, but this was absolutely uncalled for, and I am so sorry."

Mrs Wheeler nodded, echoing him almost to the point that he'd believe it, but then she continued, and he nearly rolled his eyes at her excuse, "I'm sorry. I've had quite a rough morning, I don't know what came over me."

"You yanked on her hair," Ms Billet answered in a measured voice as she seethed, "And then you chopped off a chunk. You know you have to be licensed to cut hair, right? I mean, how would you feel if Fiona shaved your head right now?"

"Ms Billet," Cas said gently, pulling her attention off of Mrs Wheeler, "Fiona mentioned that picture day is coming up. I'm sure she'd like to get this fixed as soon as she can-"

"And who's going to pay for that? Do you have any idea what the salon cost to get it done in the first place?"

"It just so happens I know a hairstylist at Slice and Slay Salon, on tenth street. You can take her in at your convenience, no charge," Cas answered.

"What about long term?" Ms Billet asked, "I don't want my daughter in her class anymore."

Mrs Wheeler drew a long, incensed breath through her nose, likely preparing to argue, but Cas gave a tiny shake of his head, "I agree. This has been very upsetting for her, and we're withdrawing her from the class immediately. I have one of our administrators altering her schedule now with as little change as possible to get her moved over to Mr Euless' class."

Cas wondered briefly if his colleague hadn't considered him to be serious about his displeasure regarding her behavior before, as she seemed more intent on preserving her self interest now that he'd announced the removal of the student from her class.

"I am so sorry, this just blew up out of control. Fiona is such a sweet girl-"

"Useless punk," Fiona answered, "That's what you called me on Thursday. You said I was a useless punk. Then you sent me to the office because I was wearing a studded bracelet."

Ms Billet patted Fiona's shoulder quickly, "Honey, go wait for me in the lobby. I'll come sign you out in a minute, okay? I want to talk to Mr Novak."

Fiona left the room quickly, and as she pulled the door closed behind her, Cas was sure she was wiping tears from her eyes. Ms Billet held up a single finger to silence Cas, turning in her chair to address Mrs Wheeler, "I got dragged out of work because you attacked my daughter after beating her down for weeks. You are not worthy of the worst insult I could think up, and I'm pretty good at thinking up insults. Stay away from my kid. Now, go."

Mrs Wheeler cooly left the room, and Ms Billet turned back to Cas, "I don't think it's a good idea to change her schedule."

"I would need a very good reason to leave her in Mrs Wheeler's class," Cas replied.

"I don't want her around male teachers, she, um... I think... She never said, and I can't prove it, but when we moved here with my ex boyfriend... I don't know. Something was just off, and I kicked him out, he moved back to his parents', but... She doesn't tell me."

Cas nodded, "I'm very sorry to say, unfortunately, I know the position you're in extremely well. But Mr Euless is a student favorite with good reason. Given some minimal warning, she could be completely comfortable in his class. With the pattern of harassment, I think it may be best for her to switch classes, even taking this new information into consideration."

"How much warning? What would you tell him?" Ms Billet asked, worry dragging at the features of her face as she pushed thin mousy strands of hair behind her ear.

"Everyone who works in this school is a mandated reporter. We know the statistics, we know the signs, and we know it's harder to deal with the side effects of even past abuse, but all the same, these children, who are likely to act out or withdraw, deserve an education. I would speak to him in private, let him know there's a suspicion of it in her recent past, that she asked me to leave the door open when I spoke to her today, and he'll happily do what he can to respect her space. If he needs to space to her privately, it'll be in an open, public area, or with another teacher present," Cas explained, "We can't make an exception based solely on the gender of the teacher, and it certainly won't work in high school. She can pick up her alternate schedule in the morning, home room should stay the same, and of course if there are any problems, I hope I'll hear about it right away."

Ms Billet nodded, still less than comfortable with the arrangement, but far more willing to try it out. Cas passed her the business card he'd pulled from his wallet.

"Kevin Tran is a very close friend of my daughter's, my granddaughter considers him an uncle. Aside from the salon, he also works with the regional women's shelter. Handy to know, should you need that information in the future."

She nodded again as she got to her feet, and Cas rose to see her out.

"Thank you."

"Not at all."

* * *

The familiar sound of the front door was a comfort to both Dean, in the kitchen, leaning against a counter and monitoring a bubbling pan on the stove, and Cas, who came through it finding relief at escaping the outside world.

Cas paused in the low archway to the kitchen, and noted the pan, "You cooked? You weren't supposed to cook."

Dean shrugged as Cas stepped closer, "Makes things easier."

Dean met his lips with his own before wrapping around him in a weary embrace.

"How was work?" Cas asked quietly.

"Don't ask," Dean replied, "How about you?"

"Don't ask."

* * *


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: Okay, timing got a little out of sequence, I don't know if you're going to notice... The beginning of the following chapter takes place before the end of this one. Not a huge thing, just a little off.
> 
> Thanks for reading! FW)

* * *

Alfie trotted happily up the front steps, the bag of take-out swinging from one hand, and Melody clinging to his back. Her hair sported several mismatched clips and bows from Cyndi's attempt at makeovers for the two younger girls.

Lights were noticeable in the kitchen and upstairs as he gently kicked the door shut behind him. Claire had replied to his texts, but despite a fresh stack of paper on the kitchen table, he hadn't spotted her.

"Claire?" he called, easing Melody to the floor. He received no reply, and pulled a disgruntled looking Barbie doll from his pocket, "Here, Mel, go put your dolly away."

"It's a Barrrbie, Daddy!" Melody corrected him as she accepted it, and hurried up the stairs.

With a more discerning look around, he realized the living room lamp was not only off, but missing from it's table near the window. Walking into the dark living room, setting the bag on the coffee table, he nearly tripped over Claire's work boots, and jumped slightly to find her sitting on the floor past the armchair, her back to the wall, and pieces of the former lamp littering the floor.

From the look of her face, she'd been there a while.

"What happened?" Alfie asked softly, crouching before her.

Claire shook her head, "Kip came to the shop today. He had a gun pointed right at Dean's face."

"Did...?"

Claire shook her head, "No, it went off when I jumped on him, and hit the ceiling."

"You tackled a guy with a gun? That's not-"

"Hypothetically, right? I can't make it three days without doing something stupid," Claire pulled one knee up to her chest.

"Yeah, but, someone came into the shop, someone who's proved in the past that they aren't a safe person to be around, and they had a weapon trained on your father, what are you supposed to do?"

Claire looked down, "Dean's pissed at me. I sent him home, told him he's staying home for the week, and... He had to drag me off Kip, and he tore one of his stitches doing it because I can't keep my shit together."

Alfie stood and walked away quickly, surprising Claire at his movement. She realized a few seconds later that he'd heard Melody coming downstairs, and met her half way down, pulling up an educational app on his phone and sending her back to her room with it, promising that he was going to help Claire clean up before dinner, which would be soon.

Returning, he took a seat on the footstool, reaching for her hand, damp with sweat or tears, possibly both, and shaking, "Other than stitches, did anybody get hurt?"

"I scraped my elbow," Claire said quietly, before the tears started again, "And there's a bullet hole over the desk... He said he didn't want to press charges."

"Who?"

"Dean. I told the deputy he was recovering and on painkillers, and I made Xander take him home. I haven't this much of a bitch to him since Xander's accident."

Alfie shrugged, "He shouldn't be back at work yet, anyway. And he shouldn't be blowing off-, I mean, when Kip went in there with a gun, you know he wasn't bringing it as a peace-offering, okay? He brought it in there because he meant to hurt somebody. Dean's not in a good spot to make important decisions like that."

"He didn't want to go, I said I'd call his brother if he didn't... That was manipulative."

"His brother? Why wouldn't you call your dad?"

Claire hung her head as she wiped her eyes only to tip it back against the wall a moment later, "A couple weeks ago, we were talking about the time last year when I told you to leave, and how Ben and Xander were all set to kick your ass with nothing more than my go-ahead, and I asked him if that was a sister thing, and he said no. He said it was a younger brother thing, and his gets the same way. Because, I guess, it's payback for every time you helped them as kids... He said Sam had watched him take too many beatings, and has been trying to pay him back in support ever since."

He nodded gently and reached for the largest piece of the fallen lamp, "So... um, this happen on accident, or intentionally?"

"I was turning it on, caught my foot in the rug, and fell. It fell, too."

"Accident."

"Yeah."

"Progress."

"I guess."

Alfie took her hands and pulled her to her feet as she gave a pained hiss, "Nobody expects perfect on a day somebody threatened a family member's life... Your leg fell asleep, didn't it?"

"Landed on my knee really hard."

Alfie carefully lifted her from the floor, and set her down by the kitchen table, returning to the living room for the bag as she maneuvered into a chair, "So, after that, after you issued a mandatory vacation for Dean, did things calm down?"

He set the bag on the table and she began unpacking the wrapped food while he went back to the living room, turning on a light and picking up large pieces of the lamp.

"Pretty much... I didn't get as much done as I was hoping for today, but-, Oh, actually, something else came up before everything went crazy, something we need to discuss."

"Yeah?" Alfie asked, headed to the kitchen trash with most of the lamp remains.

"Ben's moving out, and with it being just Dad and Dean, they think we should move over there so Melody wouldn't be in the junkyard."

Alfie looked slightly concerned as he sat down across the corner of the table, "Um... I'm not against it, just, if we have another baby, it'd be a little crowded, right?"

Claire's eyebrows went up, "What do you mean? It's a three-bedroom... Oh. No, I mean, they'd move over here. We'd trade."

"Oh. Well, yeah, if that's what you want, of course. I thought maybe adding a couple of rooms would-"

"You'd want to live with my parents?" Claire asked, cutting into his explanation.

Alfie shrugged, "We get along really great. They always ask about rules for Melody, and they only try to help when we ask them to. There's not much they ask us for, either."

Claire shook her head, amused.

"They're nothing like my parents, and I survived them, so your parents are like comparing a mosquito bite to a bear attack."

"So you admit they annoy you?"

With a sigh of mock irritation, he got up and started for the stairs, calling Melody for dinner.

* * *

"How?" Cas asked grumpily as he examined the minuscule amount of torn skin on Dean's bare stomach.

"She's heavier than she looks."

"Goddammit, Dean-"

"I was trying to protect her! He might have had other weapons, I don't know! I didn't have time to find out!"

"Were you bleeding when she banned you from the shop?" Cas asked dryly, "Perhaps that should be added to the list of rules, 'If you're bleeding, go home.'"

"Well, then we'd never get anything done," Dean answered with the most smart-assed tone he could muster.

"I should call her," Cas mused aloud as he applied an ointment and fresh bandage to the wound, "I can't imagine what was going through her mind, but I'm glad no one was shot."

"...hardly bigger than an airsoft-"

"Don't start that again. A .22 can kill."

Dean scoffed, "Yeah, if you tried to swallow it and choked, maybe. Had a buddy try to teach his wife with one, and she got clumsy and shot him in the foot. He had his work boots on, didn't even go through the leather. He said it stung for a couple of minutes, and... what are you doing?"

Cas had reached across Dean's torso to take his left hand, examining it before lacing their fingers, and between the hand and Dean's bare neck, Cas deduced what Dean had yet to realize, "You've misplaced your rings."

His free hand went to his throat in low grade alarm to find his usual cord missing, and he started to sit up, "Shit. I'll go see wher-"

Cas leaned forward, pinning Dean's hand above his head as he fumbled with the headboard, "You've done enough moving around today."

"Aw, come on! I need to go find them, they're probably in the car," Dean complained as the cuff clicked shut around his wrist.

"Get comfortable, dear, you need to rest."

"Are you punishing me?"

"No," Cas replied, "I just don't want you to go running off and digging through your car all night when you're supposed to be taking it easy."

Dean shot him an irritated look as Cas rose from the side of the bed and went to wear he'd set his phone down on the dresser, sending Claire a text, "So, am I going to be stuck like this all night?"

"Not after last time when you rolled over and nearly dislocated it," Cas answered. He kept his phone in his hand as he untied Dean's boots and eased them off. He'd barely set the second one on the floor when his phone chirped, and he read the text quickly.

"How's she doing?" Dean asked, raising his head.

"She says she's alright... And she's lying. She gets that from you."

Dean let his head drop into the pillow, resigned that Cas wasn't going to let him up for some time, and shifted slightly to get comfortable. Setting his phone down, Cas circled the bed and stretched out next to Dean, one arm under his head. Turning to look at him, Dean had intended to ask him a question, but found himself at a loss for words. Despite the jagged edges of the day leaving it's mark on both of them, he took comfort in Cas' care.

He reached his free hand up to the side of Cas' face, giving a gentle stroke at the patch of hair just behind Cas' ear that was showing more gray than he'd last noticed, "What about you?"

Cas shook his head, "Once the gun was out of his hand, you should have let him take every punch Claire had to dish out. He put you at risk, her, Xander, and if Melody had been in the shop-..."

"Cas..."

"He had it coming."

"After a certain point that beat-down would have been worse for her than for him. And if he had some adrenaline kick in, she might have gotten hurt, I had to break it up."

Cas scoffed, "And between you, Claire, and Xander, I heard nothing about this until I got home. Why? And if something had happened, would anyone have called me?"

"I'm sorry. Really, I typed it up about five times before I figured I would just tell you tonight."

"You would tell me," Cas began in a measured pace as anger grew steadily in his voice, "That someone attempted to murder you, and possibly two of our children, in a text message?"

"That's not... Cas, I... I know you're not okay, I can tell, but I'm tired. This has been really hard, today, and I'm still not exactly on my feet."

A huff was all the reply Cas gave.

"I know you're pissed, sweetheart-"

"I don't have any right to be angry, as I wasn't the one with a weapon aimed at my head."

Dean made half an attempt to sit up before remembering he was still cuffed to the headboard, and struggled onto his side, "You have every right to be angry. Hell, I'm still pissed off that Claire knew what Kip was up to, and didn't evacuate everybody through the bays! No idea what was going through her head, especially with Mel to get home to."

Cas angrily swiped a finger through the inner corner of one eye, "She was trying to protect you. It was a stupid decision, likely made from a place of fear, but, I suppose I understand it... Are you sure you're not just angry she kicked you out?"

Dean shook his head, "I can deal with that, but watching her get hurt, I don't think... And seeing what Kip's turned into, I don't know."

Rolling onto his side to face Dean, Cas kissed him gently before settling into the pillows, wrapping an arm around him.

"You're gonna cut me loose for the bathroom, right?" Dean whispered.

With a hint of irritation, Cas dug the keys from his pocket, "Fine, but you're not leaving this room."

"Straight back to bed, I swear," Dean answered as Cas reached for his bound wrist, "I don't feel like being too far away from you right now, anyway."

An alarming amount of noise from down the hall caught their attention, and Cas was at the door immediately, holding up a finger as a stern reminder to Dean before he continued towards the sound.

Upon reaching the smallest bedroom at the end of the upstairs walkway, he found the door open, and what appeared to be the results of a cardboard moving box at the bottom of a pile giving way, dropping the ones that were stacked on top of it.

"Ben?" Cas asked gently. Ben was sitting on the floor beyond the mess, in the middle of packing another box, meticulously, as he'd likely done with the others, his face in his hands.

"Yeah?" Ben replied crisply with annoyance at the situation he faced.

Eyeing the landslide of belongings, Cas shook his head, "I'm surprised you fit this much into the room to begin with... You know, if you need to, some of the boxes could go in Xander's room, just to get them out of the way."

Ben looked at the mess between him and the door, "It's not important. I'm going to take a bunch of these over tomorrow, then Xander's going to help with the desk later on."

Cas gingerly shifted a couple of the still closed boxes to the side, and closed one that hadn't completely lost it's contents as he entered the room, "I know you said last year there was already furniture in the house that came with it, is there anything you'll need besides the desk?"

"I was going to make a list tomorrow. Caitlin's kept it pretty minimal, didn't add much, and she probably won't be taking more than her own stuff when she leaves."

"That's another thing I was going to ask about," Cas said quietly, "Normally people break up and move out, not... well..."

"It's my house. I've been unclogging the sinks and fixing the hinge on the door Xander broke. I have to run down there and get the furnace lit, rake the damn yard, I might as well live there."

"I'm concerned that maybe this is either a misguided attempt to be close to her, or to make her uncomfortable."

"She deserves to be uncomfortable, but I don't really care. I'm done being uncomfortable to make her happy, it's been that way for too long. I'm not kicking her out, not exactly, but if she has more of a reason to go, then all the better."

Cas nodded, "Of course, you realize that's likely to be a rather emotionally charged situation, don't you? You haven't exactly been in the best place to listen to reason lately, but I want to at least raise the concern that if the two of you are there alone, especially now that you've broken up, you're putting yourself in a vulnerable position for any rumor or charges she may want to make in retaliation. She's been very reasonable up until this point, but there's nothing to guarantee you won't upset her and have that sort of close contact used against you."

"She's not the psycho type. I think after Elizabeth, I'd see it coming."

Cas shook his head, "In my experience, women are an entirely different creature during a break-up. Very unpredictable, and occasionally violent."

"She's tiny. What could she possibly do?" Ben chuckled.

"Well, I'm sure she's aware by now that you snore. That's a clear signal that you're dead to the world, and she could easily brain you with a heavy object at that point, possibly hard enough to crush your skull. Not that she'd need too, though. Rumors are usually enough."

"Already learned that the hard way, when Elizabeth tried to get me arrested. I was thinking about putting a webcam in the living room."

"Ben-"

"I know you're trying to protect me, Pops, but I really think-"

"You're emotional, and you're letting your guard down."

Ben gave an irritated look, then looked away for a moment before he nodded and turned back to Cas, "Is this one of those times when I'm fixing to do something really stupid, but technically you can't tell me what to do, and I'm just not listening?"

Cas opened his mouth to speak, thought better of what he was about to say, and finally shrugged, "Yes."

"You want me to stay here until she's gone."

"That would be preferable. But even cramming into the apartment with Xander and Jack, or being anywhere else would be safer for you than moving into that house while she's still there," he gestured to the door, "Of course if you'd rather use the larger room, that would be fine, also."

Ben scratched the back of his neck as he let a patient breath out through his nose, "Yeah, okay... I'll stay put, but I'm half-packed already, I'll move the stuff that can wait into there."

Cas started for the door again, back through the mess, and was almost to the hallway when Ben's voice stopped him.

"Hey, Pops?"

He turned back around, facing into the room.

"If stuff hadn't worked out with you and Dad, if you guys had split up, um... That thing you said at the wedding, about being a parent to me, and guiding me, or whatever... Would you still have done that?"

"As much as I could, of course. That was a promise to you, Ben. If we'd divorced I wouldn't have had much legal standing to see you if Dean didn't agree, but had you wanted to reconnect as an adult, he would have had no say in that, and I did promise you that for the rest of my life."

Ben was quiet as he stared at the floor in front of him.

Cas set his hand on the frame of the door, "Ben, are you all right?"

"Yeah," he answered a little too quickly, "Yeah, no, I'm just... And that crap with Kip today, it's just... I'm gonna clean this up and get some sleep."

Cas nodded, "Goodnight, son."

"'Night, Pops."

Returning to the bedroom, he found Dean sitting on the foot of the bed, one elbow on the footboard. Cas closed to door behind him, and began stripping out of his clothes, "You heard all of that."

Dean gave a jerk of his head toward the bathroom, "Bits and pieces... I can't believe you talked him out of moving."

"I didn't. He's learning to listen to reason from people older and wiser than himself."

Dean stood just enough to get into the bed properly, "Hard to believe he's getting to be that mature. Not that I'm complaining, that was some stupid shit he was getting into."

Cas paused on his way to the shower, "Should I be concerned that it was even a question in his mind?"

Dean slid deeper into the blankets as he became aware he wouldn't have Cas' company immediately, "I dunno, sweetheart. Might just be that he needed to hear it. Either way, good answer."

* * *

"You look like shit, if I'm being honest," Margaret said quietly as Claire stood up slowly from checking the depth of tread on the tires.

"It's been a long couple of weeks," Claire answered.

"I bet. Gallbladders, guns, druggies, and weird crap with you and Alfie-"

"How do you even know about that?"

Margaret scoffed, "They tell each other everything, and then they tell us everything. Only, they tell us what the other actually thinks, and then we can compare notes. That's how I know Alfie was actually hoping for another kid for a while, and was scared to bring it up."

"Yeah, well, I already know that part. And for some reason he thought I wouldn't want any more after Mel."

"Stuff changes," Margaret answered, "I love babies, I thought I was going to want, like, seven of them. Then I pushed one out and asked if they could just take out all my baby-bits while they were at it."

"Well, we haven't actually decided to start trying yet, so it's still a maybe... Dean said with Ben moving out, Dad wants to switch houses."

"How is that coming across for you?" Margaret asked, turning on the turn signals as Claire indicated each side, walking around the car in the cramped space of the garage, "Is that like a weird, convenient coincidence, or is that a sign?"

"It's a sign my dad is going to be freaking out pretty soon, and he'll need a distraction. Dean has more tolerance for hovering than I do, but after a couple of days, I'm going to start getting texts about taking Mel to the park, the store, story time at the library, all of it."

"When does he calm down again?"

Claire shook her head, "It's always calm. He just needs something to focus on constantly."

"So how'd that work when you moved in to start with? Was he always pestering you?" Margaret asked.

Claire shook her head as she stepped away from the car, satisfied it would pass inspection when brought in formally, "Not really. Mostly he just wanted to know when I was home, and if I went somewhere, where I was going, and with who."

"Um, that's normal parenting, hon. You probably just weren't used to it."

"Yeah, it took me a while to figure that part out, but I picked up on it eventually."

Margaret closed the driver's side door and they both headed back to the living room, "So, new shop and everything, are you looking for people?"

"Do you have people for me to look at?"

Margaret shrugged, "I don't want to jinx anything, just tell me if you have opening for desk jobs."

"Yeah, we need people."

"That's all I wanted to know."

Claire chuckled, "That's so freakin' enlightening!"

"Right?" Margaret answered, "Where the hell did-... They're in the pool."

"Good. They'll sleep tonight."

"The kids or the guys?"

"All of them," Claire answered, getting comfortable in an armchair.

"Booze?" Margaret asked, heading for the kitchen.

Claire pulled her phone from her pocket, "Hell yes."

It was only curiosity, she told herself, that led her to check the calendar app. It was for planning purposes to avoid being caught unawares without supplies in her purse. It had nothing to do with the alcohol. It had nothing to do with the stomach bug that seemed to be threatening to rear it's ugly head that morning at breakfast when she'd caught the scent of fresh onion. Yet, there it was, plain as day on the screen as Margaret's hand hung slightly above it, carrying a second shot of fireball.

The screen read, in large, bold letters, brightly lit, and obvious to both people in the room, 'Five Days Late.'

"Shit."

"Congratulations!" Margaret offered happily before withdrawing her hand and downing the shot, "I'll grab you a soda."

"Don't congratulate me! I'm probably just off because I'm coming off the pills. We've been really careful."

"Uh-huh, sure. Like you were careful with Melody?" Margaret replied, taking the second shot as she went back to the kitchen.

"I'm not, okay? I don't even feel..." Claire sank backward, one hand to her face, a grimace slowly growing as Margaret reapproached with a large glass of ice water.

Accepting the glass, Claire continued tracing her hairline at her temple until Margaret spoke up from the spot she'd taken on the couch, "There's a box of tests under the sink in my bathroom, if you really want to know."

"Why would you need them?" Claire asked, her train of thought having derailed.

Margaret looked at her solemnly, "Because I'm not having any more, not even if a couple of tubes magically grew back, and the safest way to handle that is early. The minute I even think it might be a possibility, I have tests on hand, I don't have to wait."

Steeling herself with a shaky inhale, Claire straightened in her seat, drank deeply from her glass, and set it down on the coffee table, along with her phone, and stood.

"Take your phone with you, there's no clock in there," Margaret prompted, causing Claire to scoop it up from the table before she walked off.

* * *


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: This one came along fast! Yikes! What the heck?
> 
> Okay, mention of a miscarriage from Claire's POV, nothing very direct or detailed, more of a description of her reaction. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Thanks for comments! Thanks for those views popping up by, like, 50 per chapter? Jeez, when I go back and re-edit from the beginning, fixing mistakes, I'm gonna have all the views! LOL! Thanks again! FW)

* * *

He'd arrived late, which wasn't unusual, and would have happily explained he'd had to see to his husband, but upon arriving at his office door, he found Hannah waiting for him.

Cas closed the door out of habit, and circled his desk to take his seat, "Something's wrong?"

"What makes you ask?" Hannah asked, her expression vague.

"You tend to find your way in here when something's the matter, and otherwise, you're busy."

Hannah gave a soft nod, "Yes. Well, after yesterday, there's some question among the faculty of exactly who's side you stand on, and if you're willing to throw teachers under the bus to keep parents happy. And if so, how far does that go?"

"Mrs Wheeler could have faced serious consequences for what she did."

"She had a point, though. A child that young with unnaturally colored hair, that wouldn't fly at most schools to begin with, and-"

"Those schools would send her home, not allow a teacher to cut it short. And those schools run on an archaic idea of what is socially acceptable. How antique exactly would you like our constructs to be? Should we require all our teachers to wear petticoats and pinafores? Strike children with rulers? Bring back dunce caps and stools?" Cas asked, not bothering to hide his displeasure with the conversation.

"You threatened to fire her!" Hannah exclaimed, "The students are well protected, but what about us? The teachers, the admins, the people who come in here and give up our time for a low paying profession to give these kids an education, while we have to bend over backward to keep them happy, because god forbid they come running to you!"

Cas took a deep breath and answered in a more measured manner, "You are welcome to disagree with how I handled the situation yesterday. I'll even hear you out if you'd like to suggest how I could have done it better. But you're accusing me of not protecting the teacher who could have easily been arrested and charged with assault of a minor child with a deadly weapon. She didn't go to jail, she didn't even have to pay for the damage she caused, despite her tepid and sore-did apology. She still has her job. What more do you want?"

Hannah huffed as a slight sneer took over, "You're an arrogant bastard who refuses to consider he might have made a mistake."

"That's a possibility. However, I might be an arrogant bastard that's learned not to make them."

Hannah stood out of irritation, if for no other reason, "You may treat all the students equally, Cas, but you are still playing favorites! I'm going to the district about this. I'm not going to sit around and watch you sell out every time some parent comes in here whining that their kid stubbed a toe! I'm going to ask for a transfer, and if they can't make it happen, maybe they'll give me your job."

Cas shrugged, "We all have our choices to make. I only hope you can live with yours."

"Screw you," Hannah said quietly before storming out the door. Had the door been lighter, it may even have slammed.

Cas sat back in his chair, and turned toward the wall where, under Gabe's advice long ago, several varied family photos were framed, along with a crayon drawing Melody had made.

* * *

Sunlight was slipping through the curtains, and Melody was talking quietly to her dolls in the next room when Claire stretched and found that Alfie was still out cold. She slapped at his shoulder just enough to wake him as she sat up with her back to the headboard.

Rolling onto his back, Alfie craned his neck to get a look at her face, "What?"

"Are you all the way awake?"

"Yeah?"

"I really wanted to plan it out this time, I didn't want any surprises, but-..."

"Plan what?" Alfie asked, raising up on his elbow.

Claire's gaze went to the window as she avoided his eyes, "Margaret had some tests in her bathroom, so just to be safe before drinking, I-"

"You're pregnant? Already?"

She pulled a pillow from behind her back and whopped his face with it, but it did nothing to dispel his goofy grin, "Shut up."

"But that's great, that's what you wanted, right? Second time around, this is going to be easier, we know what we're doing, I'm going to be here this time, for all of it, and... What's wrong? You look pissed."

"It was supposed to be on purpose this time."

The look on Alfie's face told Claire that her words had come out more hurt than she'd wanted to consider, and he sat up to sit next to her, pulling her close, "We can pretend it was."

Claire scoffed, "Yeah, and the moon is made of cheese, who cares, right? It's just lying to ourselves."

"I love you on purpose, does that part count? ...We both wanted a baby, and we talked about it, and things can just kind of go one step at a time right now. There's not a whole lot to worry about. It's not a huge difference."

"I shouldn't have stopped taking my pills."

Alfie adjusted his arms around her, "You got used to the bike, remember?"

"What does that have to do with this?" Claire asked, turning awkwardly, only to be met with a gentle kiss.

"You got used to not being the one in control before, you eased up... I'm not scared, I've got you with me, and maybe you'd be happier if you could just kind of, well, go along for the ride. It doesn't have to be under your thumb every minute."

Claire eased against him as he felt her intentionally relax, "I had to, last time, I didn't have a choice."

"I know you prefer everything to be your choice, but this was about ninety-eight percent planned. That's pretty good, considering."

"Not a word this time, though. You told everybody and their dog."

Alfie nodded in agreement, "Yeah, of course... Does Margaret already know?"

"I wasn't going to tell her before you. But she probably already knows, since I didn't drink with her last night. And before you ask, yeah, same as last time, Kevin doesn't count."

Alfie squeezed her in response, "What about your folks? When do you want to tell them?"

Claire shook her head, her hair brushing against his bare shoulder, "It can wait."

"Okay... Is it because of before Mel, when it didn't last?" Alfie asked, his voice dropping to a whisper.

Claire thought back to the day she'd attempted to open the shop, having taken the day before to go in for an emergency ultrasound, only to be given condolences and directions on how much over the counter pain pills she could use to make it bearable, as though anything could touch the emotional pain she was in. She'd wound up crying in a corner, where Dean found her, too depressed to even throw the ratchet and socket that had come to her hand. Alfie had arrived home two days later.

"That's not going to happen again," Claire said quietly, her voice cold, "When it's time, we'll tell Mel, and give her a couple of days to adjust. If she tells anybody during that time, that's fine, they can know, but, this can just take a while coming out."

* * *

"Are you sure you're up to this?" Cas asked, looking over the top of the locked trunk.

Dean chuckled, "It's just to the garage. I'll go first, you'll take most of the weight, I'm just guiding you down."

"Yes, but if it starts to fall-"

"We'll set it down. It's fine. I swear."

Cas didn't seem completely convinced, but picked up his end as Dean did the same across from him. The trunk had been lightened slightly by a few well loved items being removed and stored in a bag in the hopes that it would tide them over as they continued to prepare the house for the eventual move.

"So," Dean began with a hint of strain in his voice as he backed toward the open door, "She just bitched you out for not doing more for the teacher? After you paid for the kid to get her hair fixed and moved her out of the class to keep mom from pressing charges?"

Cas nodded, "She doesn't want to to work at the school anymore. She's not prone to emotional mood swings, I have no reason to doubt that she's serious."

"I thought she liked you," Dean said, turning carefully as they angled outward from the door, looking over his shoulder at his approach to the stairs, "I mean, she's worked with you since the boys were in seventh grade, she's been over here nearly every time you've had coworkers over, I thought you two had a good,-" Dean gave a slight grunt as the load inside the box shifted with a creak, "-a good working relationship."

"It seems we have a difference of opinion that won't resolve itself so easily. But if it's so important to her, perhaps it's better that she leave for another school."

Dean carefully felt his footing down to the first stair, "I still don't know how I feel about her talking about taking your job, though. You've busted your ass for that position for ten years, and I don't mind backing you up for it, but she's got no reason to threaten you like that."

The trunk gave another ominous groan at the odd angle as Dean made it half way down the stairs. Cas was about to answer him when they were both startled by the inevitable.

Several months before, during a rather intense night, a bottle hadn't been closed as tightly as it should have been. Cleaned and sanitized, the gear used had been put away in a hurry in order to return to the soft comfort of the bed, in the dark room, and the bottle had been tipped over and buried at the bottom of the trunk, where the water based lubricant slowly seeped into the thin wooden slats.

The wood had swollen, weakened by the weight of the many objects within the trunk, and had dissolved somewhat along the edge where the lube had pooled. Given the number and weight of sex toys inside, and the spill that had been unnoticed for so long, the shift of movement was more than enough for half of the flimsy bottom of the trunk to snap, the end and sides letting it give way, and spilling the contents around Dean's feet.

Various plugs, rings, rods, wands, sleeves, gags, vibrators, cuffs, clamps, and straps, along with several items Dean was sure he'd never set eyes on before, littered the stairs, one particularly pliable plug bouncing several times as it went before slapping against the back of the couch and coming to rest on the living room floor. 

"Are you all right?" Cas asked quickly as both moved to set the trunk down against the wall.

A choking sound escaped Dean's mouth as he leaned against the railing.

"Dean?"

"We were trying to keep it quiet, keep it put away, and now," Dean explained, quickly losing any hint of composure, "They're all over the floor, and I'm up to my knees in your toy collection."

Cas paused to turn the trunk onto its face to examine the underside, finding it relatively obliterated, "I can't repair that much damage. The bottom's completely blown out."

It was at that point Dean began laughing so hard, he was shaking, and Cas worried he'd fall the rest of the way down the stairs. He took a firm hold of Dean's arm, steadying him, and pulling him a few steps upward from the mess, leading him to sit down, and joining him, looking down on the carnal carnage.

"It wasn't that funny, Dean."

"It was-" Dean managed to gasp through his uncontrolled laughter, "But, hey, better it than me."

Cas shook his head with a chuckle, and glanced at his watched, glad it had taken place during the middle of the day, when they'd have some time to clean up before Ben came home. Turning back to Dean, who'd put elbows to knees to brace himself, tears in his eyes at the spectacle of it all, cheeks flushed, and still shaking. It warmed his heart to see his husband so completely overtaken by laughter, so open about his amusement, and pausing a moment before what was certain to be a hurried clean-up and part of a particularly long day to laugh uproariously at the disaster that had been their carefully hidden supply of kink.

His cheeks were pink, and the lines that showed at the corner of his eyes were many. He wasn't just full of life, he was brimming with it, and as Cas found himself hungry for a taste of that same laughter, he had no reason to hold back. He planted his knee onto the next step down as he turned, catching Dean's mouth with his own, pressing him back into the edges of the stairs further up.

Dean was still struggling to catch his breath as he did his best to accept the rough kiss from Cas, bringing his hands to Cas' sides as though to make up for his own inability to breathe.

The feel of Dean's hands on him only served to spur him on, and he precariously maneuvered the stairs, going after a spot a the bottom of Dean's neck that made him shiver. Hitting his goal and feeling the resulting reaction, he eased off, careful not to put too much weight on Dean's stomach as he looked up, met with a very welcoming smirk.

"Don't tell me there's a fetish for seeing the whole damn tickle trunk tumbling down the stairs," Dean teased gently, his firm hands steady on Cas' ribs.

Cas ignored the question, "If you've got control of yourself now, I suggest you grab a duffel from the camping gear to stow the rest while I start picking up."

Dean's eyes were a bit too intense as Cas started to move away, "Later?"

"Which one? Clean up, or sex?"

Dean looked past Cas, involuntarily licking his lower lip as he did, "One then the other? I don't think we ever got around to doing it on the stairs."

Cas slipped a hand between Dean's legs, comfortable with the way Dean fit into his palm, and gave a soft squeeze, "Later. We need to clean this up before we're too worn out or distracted."

"Always logic with you, no fun," Dean fussed, "Give me one more before I go get the bag?"

Cas kissed him deeply, almost angrily, feeling the slightest stir in himself as he heard Dean react. Shifting back to his seat on the step as Dean hauled himself to his feet and turned to go upstairs, Cas allowed himself a quick swat at the back of Dean's jeans before he got up and got to work gathering the mess that had so poetically burst forth all over the stairs.

* * *

Alfie had been in many interesting places before, but the tiny radio station near Bridgeway was new.

Ivan had attempted to explain the local morning radio show, and how he knew one of the personalities who hosted, but it came out in a jumble during the very early morning drive. It certainly wasn't the first time, and apparently there was a small cult following that especially enjoyed the on-air antics he'd occasionally be dragged into by this long time friend.

"So, they just ask questions? How does this work?" Alfie asked, sipping his coffee as Ivan drove.

"Well, don't be boring. And if you aren't sure, change the subject. All you really have to do is sit and talk, and don't talk over them, but they'll kind of lead it along. That's their whole gig, is keeping it interesting, okay?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"It's going to be weird, you know? Since you've got two names. Don't freak out if I slip up."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Alfie answered, "How widespread is this?"

Ivan shrugged, "There's a small following in New Zealand."

"You're kidding?"

"Nope. I flew out for two concerts before some thing in Australia a couple years back with Lila, and I figured nobody would know me, so I was friendly and public, now a bunch of folks brag that they got to meet me. Changed my approach completely. Lila's still avoiding being seen in real life, there's some rumors she wants out, I might be a bigger name pretty soon."

Alfie took another hit off his coffee as they came to the edge of the small town, and Ivan veered off on a side road to a high bit of ground preferable for signal. Before Alfie knew it, he was being escorted through dark, narrow halls, and into a cramped room that contained a plethora of interesting controls. Ivan sat nearby, and directed him to put on a headset that looked as though it had seen better days.

The conversation was blur almost before it began, the hosts greeted them, particularly Ivan, who fell into the quick pacing easily as Alfie attempted to keep up. Names were announced, the project, which seemed too soon to announce despite the fact that each had made so much progress even this early, was brought up, and then someone was asking him about his usual work. That part held his attention, despite the early hour.

"So, Samandriel-, or, uh, we're cool, right? You don't mind being on a first name basis?" one of the two strangers in the small room asked.

"No. No, that's fine."

"Okay. You're a painter, right? You have your paintings hanging up in galleries all over the world, and you've got the real starving artist thing going on, is that how that works?"

"No," Alfie said with a chuckle, "Um, I don't actually paint, I make digital paintings, it's almost always electronic."

The other host spoke up, "He M.S. Paints."

A guffaw circled the room, and Alfie chuckled as well, "Uh, sure. Yeah. I M.S. Paint. Usually, though, I take a photo, or draw something, and then scan it, then I obsess about it for a few months until it looks nothing like the original, and it becomes a completely new piece. Very rarely, I'll put something together that's never been near the computer, and there's a few people who prefer it that way."

The first host nodded, "So, can you photoshop me a new phone background? I've got this one of my kid, but Ivan said you did a really nice one of the top of a fast food cup-"

"Your Burger King addiction is showing again, Roy," the quieter of the two hosts commented.

"Well, just, if he can do it, if he can make art out of some of my Burger King trash, then, yeah, I'll take my kid's picture off my phone right now."

Ivan shook his head, "You can't afford him, man."

"What's that?"

"You can't afford him," Ivan repeated, "This guy could make that phone background and have it displayed in some museum in some foreign country, and maybe an art collector would buy it. Like, what's the biggest piece you ever sold?"

Alfie shrugged, remembering what Ivan had said about 'dead air' being completely unacceptable, "Umm... I don't really pay attention to how much comes in from selling the pieces, but I'd have to say my biggest was six feet across. So that wouldn't fit on your phone."

A round of chuckling comments circled the table at what he thought was a weak attempt at wit. He was sure any remotely amusing quip would have sufficed at this point.

Ivan shifted in his chair, addressing the mic, "Yeah, but before he got really well known, he was in the local music scene. You wouldn't know, but this guy slays Bowie's higher pitched stuff."

"I haven't done that in years, though."

"Still, if we get to the studio and you want in on that, we can find you a mic," Ivan commented.

"Bowie, huh?" the more talkative host asked, "So, Ivan, you said you guys were like, roommates for a year or so? That's how you met?"

"Right," Ivan answered, nodding, "I was renting out a room at his house. We were both working at the same place, that's how we met. That was a long time ago. His buddy actually got me in with a band, that's what got me scouted, and I only picked up what little bit of piano I can do by messing around with his dad's."

"Samandriel, we were trying to find out more about you before having you on the show," the second host said in a quiet, paced tone, "So we were looking up stuff online about you, and one place said you're married to this blonde woman, and another place said this other guy, some Asian fellow, was your boyfriend, but that you're not married. We dug around in some old interviews, and we couldn't find, really, anything concrete. Care to clear any of that up?"

Alfie chuckled, "No. I was, I mean, I tried to be clear about it from the start, and I got called a liar, so, I just stopped answering questions about my personal life."

"He's dating five martians, and one has green polka-dots," Ivan quipped.

Both hosts laughed, and a few rounds of jokes ensued before the first host came out with another genuine question, "Ivan, were you ever one of those martians? Is that something we should know about you?"

"Who, me?" Ivan asked.

"Yeah. You guys were living together-"

"Might have just had really thin walls," the second host interjected.

"Were you two ever involved?" the first host asked, finishing his question.

"No," Ivan answered quickly, "I was all about the ladies. I mean, it's all about my wife now, but even then, no interest in guys. Sorry."

"Well, I'm not trying to hit on you-"

"Couldn't blame you for hitting on Ivan, especially with that new haircut," the other host chimed in.

"Right," the first continued, adding as he tapped a button nearby, "Ivan Lowery has a new 'do, and if you're listening, you can go to our website if you want to take a look. I gotta say, it's pretty sharp. It's, uh, you know, he's a really fine looking fellow, and hopefully he'll take all this in stride, and not sue us for coming onto him."

"He's probably texting his lawyers right now, Roy," the second offered, pointing toward Ivan.

Ivan chuckled, "No, we're good. I know you guys. And I've seen way worse said about me online, I don't go after people like that."

"So I'm not in trouble for making eyes at you?"

"No," Ivan answered with a laugh.

"So, where's the line, exactly? Or is there a line for you?" Roy asked.

"What do you mean? For harassment?" Ivan asked.

"Do you get hit on by guys on a regular basis?"

Alfie watched as Ivan's eyes darkened. He knew the look well, he'd seen it a few times when Kevin had gotten on his nerves, and once when Lucas had made a comment about Julie that had resulted in a black eye. Briefly he wondered what he might do to diffuse the situation.

"Let me tell you about gay guys, okay?" Ivan said firmly, "Just from what I know, from personal experience, since you went there."

The second host was suddenly half out of his chair, motioning to someone through a window into the next room, his face grave, and Roy's attention was split between trying to get the guy to sit down, and paying attention to Ivan.

"They're just people, just like everybody else," Ivan continued as Alfie realized Roy had rested his hand above a couple of different buttons, "And they've got stuff in their lives to deal with, just like everybody, and they are completely capable of having a regular conversation that has nothing to do with how hot I look, unlike you. You're fixed on it."

"He's got you there, man," the second host chuckled at Roy as Ivan continued to glower.

"You guys know I've got two kids at home. And the best parenting advice I ever got, I got that advice from a guy who happens to be gay. He's the father of a close friend, and this was-, I was going through something similar to what he'd been through, and when I went to him with this, he sat me down with a beer in the backyard, and put everything into perspective."

Roy gave a nod, "Well, I feel like an ass already, now, but I gotta know, was this guy also a redneck?"

Ivan chuckled as he shook his head, "No. No where near it. He wears a tie to his desk job, but, man, his dad-game is on point. I know his kids. He knows what he's doing."

"And what was this advice? Because you're making it sound like this guy had all the answers to fatherhood."

The second host spoke up, "We could use a little profound wisdom this morning, after getting a little close to crossing the line, there."

Ivan nodded, "Well, it was a few years back, but some of that really stuck with me. He told me that, um... That fatherhood is being prepared to sacrifice every part of yourself to see your child succeed, especially where you fail, and still having the self control to let go when they need it. That parenting is about loving someone before they're capable of loving you back, and even if you can't hold onto them every minute of the day, you don't have a choice but to hold onto that love, and never let go of it."

The hosts were both nodding as Ivan spoke softly, "Well, we asked for profound, and we got it. How many kids does this guy have?"

"Three," Ivan answered.

"And one grandchild," Alfie spoke up.

"Oh, you know this guy, too, Samandriel?" Roy asked.

Alfie smirked as he nodded, "Yeah, he's great, I mean, sometimes he'll jump into a fight to help you out, and sometimes he'll tell you he's going to use your hollowed out husk as a bird feeder. I have a lot of respect for him."

The radio show hosts had a good chuckle at that, and continued on for a while, but Alfie couldn't recall the rest of the conversation later, as everything up to them thanking them for being on the show slipped his mind.

Heading back, aimed at the shop from Bridgeway, Alfie was quiet for the first quarter of the drive, nearly startling Ivan when he spoke, "Drips... I never got that before, I think I get it now. The hospital in the video, too."

"Huh?"

"Don't give me that 'huh,' shit," Alfie chuckled, "The song, Drips. And you called me a sick freak. I thought you were just trying to be as disgusting as possible, but now, I get it."

Ivan shook his head, "I just needed some edgy crap to fill up space at the end of the CD, it's not my fault it stuck, and some oddballs wanted more."

Alfie was scrolling on his phone the next time Ivan glanced over.

"What are you doing?"

"Pulling up the lyrics."

"Why?"

"To see if I'm right... 'Starts with a drip, the only one you gave me,' 'not here,' more 'not here,' I get it. How gross was that to think about?"

Ivan shook his head, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Uh-huh, sure... It all lines up, every time the word 'drip' is mentioned, it's clearly a bodily fluid, and the rest of the time it's obvious. Tears, a baby drooling, blood-... Wait... 'Dripping red, one arm to another, binds her light to the waking world?'"

"You're reading way too much into this. I was just trying to hit the goth demographic with th-"

"You put a line about my wife getting a transfusion from her father in a song that starts with the whole absent-father thing you went through, by referencing your dad's-... Ivan, I'm sorry, but dog shit and nipples has got nothing on this," Alfie chuckled.

Ivan's expression shifted slightly as he drove, "When I first heard that he did that, it didn't seem possible."

"Why? The way medicine runs these days, donors or whatever-"

"Because nobody in my family would have done it for me, so in my head, where I was at, you might as well have said the guy took a vacation on the surface of the sun and came back a little tan. I couldn't accept it. It was in my head for weeks that anybody could care that much about their kid," Ivan said quietly.

"You gotta be kidding," Alfie replied with obvious shock in his voice, "I mean, you've got a ton of issues with your folks, but there had to be somebody who would have bled for you, right? Grandparents?"

"If they would have, they sure didn't let on."

Alfie considered his own upbringing and his relationship with Melody, and even with his in-laws. Naomi came to mind, she and Crowley had both attempted to look out for him when he was hurt. Kevin, Bobby, Linda... Even at his most vulnerable, he hadn't been entirely without anyone, even if he had dealt with an abnormal amount of isolation, "What does your mom think of what you do?"

Alfie had known Ivan for years. They had lived under the same roof, they had worked side by side, they'd laughed, snapped, argued, and when necessary, apologized. Their children played together. They'd attended each others' weddings. Alfie counted Ivan as a close friend, despite how rarely he'd seen him over the last few years.

But it was only when Ivan silently, and disinterestedly shrugged that Alfie understood him.

* * *


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: Picking up a bit of speed here, hoping to keep it going. I don't see ending on Chapter 50 this time around, maybe closer to 75. Not pushing for it, it just looks like that's how long it's going to take to tell the story.
> 
> I don't want to give anything away, so I'll say, go easy with this chapter, it's stressful.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Please take your own mental condition into mind and don't read things that push you past your comfort zone! Take care of yourself, because I am not there to provide you with blankies and cocoa. FW)

* * *

** A few weeks later **

* * *

"Well... At least she's comfortable enough to tell us that," Alfie offered across the coffee table where he and Claire still sat on the floor from discussing the approaching life changes that would soon affect their family.

Claire looked less than enthused, "I don't like this."

"It's not that bad."

"She could have been angry, or thrown a fit, and I could deal with that, but when she said she'd run away, she was just, I don't know, stone cold."

Alfie chuckled, "Run away to her grandpas. That's not unusual for a kid as independent as she is. And it's not about us, it's about the baby. She said only if it cries loud."

"I don't want her trying to walk over here on her own, there's all kinds of things that could go wrong, she's too little."

Alfie could hear Melody singing something as she loudly put her toys away above them, and looked up for a moment before turning back to his wife, "You know why she's this fearless, right?"

Claire began putting away the crayons as she replied, "Everybody says it, but it's not because of me. I'm only like this because I've been through horrible shit, and nothing could be worse. I live with it all the time. She's only ever been afraid of that car insurance commercial because nothing has ever hurt her, so she doesn't know how to be afraid yet. She doesn't know that trying to walk over here without an adult could wind up with some coyote dragging her guts through the parking lot."

"I don't know what to say to that... It's not like she never scrapes her knee or anything. I sure don't want to tell her that about the coyote, though. I mean, what if we tried to explain that kind of thing, and then we wind up overdoing it, and then she's scared of everything? Where's the middle ground?"

She was quiet as she closed the box, stacked the used paper to one side, and started to get up, "I have no idea."

* * *

"All set?" Jack asked, tightening the tarp over the load in the back of Xander's truck.

Coming down the stairs with trash bag full of clothes, Ben shrugged, "Why not?"

"Because your last breakup went so smoothly?" Xander suggested wryly, "And you're sure you're just done, right?"

"Right," Ben answered, "Just been waiting for her to head back to whatever bullshit suburb she crawled out of, I finally get my house. Her dad shut everything off that he was paying for, so I can set it up with no crazy crap."

Jack shot Xander a highly skeptical look, which Xander seemed to echo, and both climbed into the cab, starting down the gravel road toward the highway.

A short time later, Xander pulled into the driveway of the ranch house, and despite the insistence that the keys would be left in the mailbox, that Caitlin would be long gone by the time Ben arrived, there was a car in the other end of the circular driveway.

"Aw, shit... How far behind us is he?" Jack asked, leaning forward to look for Ben's car in the side mirror.

"I'm not sure," Xander answered.

"Stop, don't pull up any further," Jack said quickly, knowing the location of Xander's truck would slow Ben down. He jumped out of the truck as soon as it stopped, and jogged to the sedan, unsurprised when Caitlin got out of the passenger side.

She looked confused to see Jack, and looking past him, noted only Xander in the truck, "Where's Ben?"

"You were supposed to be gone yesterday, what are you doing?"

Caitlin shrugged, "I had a delay that set us back to this morning. We followed the truck for a few hours, and then I remembered I forgot something, and mom and I turned around."

"Did you find it?"

Caitlin looked past him once more as Ben's car pulled into the short bit of driveway behind Xander's truck, "Maybe."

"Don't do that," Jack objected, "Don't be Liz part two. Ben's done. Any more of this crap, and you're just playing with him. You're the one who couldn't-"

"I still care about him."

"Cait, you're a bitch. Okay? There, I said it. And I know bitches, my sister is a huge one. Don't drag him along like this."

Caitlin rolled her eyes as a car door sounded further off, "This is none of your business, this is between me and Ben."

"That's why I'm getting in the middle," Jack insisted, "He's so done with you that even I'm done with you. So go. Go do whatever the hell is so much more important than him, and give him the space to pick himself up and move on."

"Butt out."

Jack shook his head and put his hands on his hips, "No. Not this time. He's only here because you said you'd be gone. You said you were leaving. You're a liar."

Caitlin met his gaze, fuming, and attempted to step around him as he sidestepped to block her. She tried it a second time to the other side, and he blocked her once more, "Get out of my way!"

"Get out of my town!" Jack yelled in response, in a whining, equally high pitch.

Footsteps sounded behind him, and he took a quick look over his shoulder to see that Ben was leaning against the driver's side of Xander's truck, and it was Xander who'd walked over to meet them.

He'd expected Xander to stand beside him and help shut the attempted confrontation down, but he barely paused to scoop Caitlin up over his shoulder as he continued to the sedan where her mother waited. He didn't set her down until he had the passenger door open for her, and easily blocked any route other than choosing to enter the car.

"Goodbye, Caitlin."

"What's going on?" her mother asked from the passenger seat, "Did Ben bring the keys like he said?"

"Ben is hanging out over there because he doesn't want to see her," Xander explained through the open door, "So I don't think she asked him to bring them in the first place. She was supposed to be gone last night, and leave her set of keys in the mailbox. I doubt she left anything here, and she's trying to talk to my brother against his wishes."

Caitlin's mother looked confused and turned to her daughter, "I thought you left the keys on the table?"

"Do me a favor and check her purse. She might be planning to come back and bother him later," Xander suggested.

Jack had taken the liberty of trying the front door, and found it unlocked. "Hey, Caitlin!" he called from the porch, "You left it open. What are we looking for?"

Caitlin had become so angry she was shaking, and frustrated tears ran down her cheeks as she quickly climbed into the car. Her mother was asking her a barrage of questions as Xander stepped away, leaving her room to slam the door. It was only a moment later that the car pulled out onto the highway.

Xander pointed to his truck and waved, directing Ben to bring it forward as Jack headed inside. He started in after Jack as he heard the engine start, and found the house only slightly emptier than it had been when Caitlin had last had them over. The engine became louder as it neared the open door before it came to a stop and shut off.

Jack had moved through the house, slipping from room to room to check on the condition of the house, and soon, Ben appeared in the front doorway. He looked angry, but there was also a sorrow there that Xander rarely saw.

"You okay?" he asked.

Ben nodded, and attempted to preoccupy himself by looking around as Jack was nearly finished doing himself, "Yeah, just... That was just some bullshit. I wasn't expecting that."

"We got you," Jack answered, coming back to the living room.

"Yeah, I know, just... She was supposed to be gone. She sent me a text last night that they were leaving," Ben answered, a strain in his voice, "It's just, she really just never had any respect for me at all, why would she now?"

"Who gives a shit?" Jack replied, "At least you figured it out early, right?"

"You know if this was the other way around, and you were waiting for her, somebody would have called the cops, right? What would Kevin call that?" Xander asked, setting a hand on Ben's shoulder.

"I dunno, ambush, manipulation. Whatever," Ben responded halfheartedly. He stumbled slightly as Xander pulled him in for a quick hug and Jack stepped closer to give him a firm pat on the back.

"Forget her, man. You've got a whole damn house, now. No ex girlfriend living in it, or showing up at one of your jobs for a heart-to-heart on how you need her to tell you how to run your life because you're too stupid to do it yourself. You're free, Ben. Breathe it in, brother," Jack said in an attempt to be encouraging, a little too chipper for Ben's mood at the time.

Ben moved far more slowly as Jack headed happily for the door to begin unloading the truck.

Xander gave his shoulder a squeeze before he let go, "He's right... And it's probably a good thing Claire threw her out on her ass."

"Yeah, I know, just, I never had a breakup take this long before."

"Look at it this way," Xander said quietly as they reached the doorway, "At least she didn't have the chance to flush your mom's ring or anything, it's still safe and sound. So, not only did you dodge the big bullet, you missed a few of the smaller ones, too."

* * *

Sleep kept a heavy hold on Cas as he felt the bed move. He tried desperately to ignore the click of the lamp given the early hour, but soon rough hands were gently cradling his face.

With great effort, his eyes came open, "What is it?"

There was an agony in Dean's eyes as he shook his head that made Cas' blood run cold with a flash of fear before Dean wrapped around him, settling back onto the bed in an embrace that seemed to take over his entire body. The warmth and contact would have easily put Cas back to sleep despite the light of the lamp if Dean's tensed body hadn't been so firm, wound tight with anxiety.

"Dean?" Cas asked as he felt gentle fingers in his hair, "Dean, please..."

"I'm sorry," his voice was shaken, "I just needed to see you."

"You've seen me, but you're still doing this."

With a molasses-slow reluctance, Dean released him, rolling over to turn the light off again, reaching for him and inching closer having done so. Cas cooperated with Dean's arms, content to be held as he listened to Dean's breathing slow.

"Bad dreams?" Cas asked in the darkness.

"He kept hitting you..." Dean whispered, "I couldn't make him stop."

"Is it worth reminding you that I never met the man? Or that I could easily win a fight against him, as he's dead, or that even if he weren't, he'd be at least sixty-five?" Cas asked softly.

At the feel of Dean's fingers tracing his cheekbone, he was sure Dean was picturing graphic damage caused to his face. He'd described, after a similar nightmare, how his father had burst into his room, dragged the boy he'd been making out with to his feet, and slammed the other teen's face into a door frame. The only other time he'd pictured Cas in his place, Dean had woken in a panic, fell as he had tried to get out of bed, and Ben had come to check on them before Cas could even turn on a light. It had been hard for Ben, at sixteen, to handle seeing Dean sitting on the bedroom floor crying over a nightmare, and Cas had borne the brunt of the awkwardness until the shock wore off a few days later.

"There was blood all over your shirt... I think I could see bone..." Dean whispered.

"It wasn't real. I'm fine, I promise."

"It felt real. I could feel you kissing me, and I felt it when he pulled you away."

Cas adjusted to get his arms all the way around Dean, and held him tightly, "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

He could hear it in Dean's voice that he was nearing sleep again when Dean whispered against his hair, "Are you mad at me?"

"Why would I be?"

"...still can't find my rings."

"No, I'm not mad," Cas assured him, certain they'd both be asleep within minutes.

* * *

Dean was in the small office inside the shop, waiting on hold, tapping a pencil on one of the battered repair manuals. The front door opened and closed, and he could tell by the light, quick steps that it was Claire, who entered a few moments later, setting a file and two stacks of lose paper down in front of him.

Something was different, yet oddly familiar as he sat up straighter to look at the items she'd put down before him, but as she was standing on the other side of the desk, her waistband was very much in his field of view. And just below the hem of her shirt, before the denim began, that waistband was knit. He knew where he'd seen them before, and it had been years.

He looked up, pointing to her jeans, "Laundry day?"

Claire scoffed, "I don't have a laundry day, I have a housewife."

"Right. No, you wear maternity jeans as a fashion statement."

"Shut up," Claire replied quickly, turning to leave the room.

"Hey," Dean called gruffly, getting her attention, "Any luck on a priorities list for making that company training manual?"

"Uh, one, don't do drugs and steal from the shop, two, don't throw anything that breathes, and three, don't harass your coworkers. Good enough?"

Dean shrugged and gestured to her jeans again, "Evidently three is open to interpretation."

Claire crossed her arms defensively as she hovered in the doorway, but Dean cut her short.

"How early is it? Do you need to kick back to light duty?"

"Ten weeks, and only Mel and Alfie are supposed to know right now," she answered.

Dean nodded, "Well, you know how it is, I don't keep stuff from your dad."

"Yeah, I know. So you can tell him while you're at it, unloading every little detail that's none of your business, that Melody's response when we told her was 'If the baby cries too loud, I will run away and go to Pop-pop and Grandpa's house.'"

He did nothing to hide his grin, "Sounds good to me, she can get a full night's sleep, and go home with a pony and a bag of sugar."

Claire looked less than amused, "No, she's gonna bring a pony and a bag of sugar over to your house. And it might be a much longer recovery this time, so, I don't know. Start planning ahead."

"What?" Dean asked blankly as she started for the front desk. Concerned, he put the phone on speaker and set the handset down, following her to the waiting area where she'd already opened a drawer of the filing cabinet by the desk, "What do you mean, 'plan ahead?' Everything went perfect for you last time."

"Last time, Melody didn't attach at the worst possible place, the lowest possible place. If it doesn't get out of the way as the kid grows, I'm looking at a c-section."

Dean nodded, "That's from an actual doctor this time, right? Not that midwife who wasn't even a nurse midwife?"

"She was qualified, she just thought she had more time than that."

"She had thirty years practice and told you that without chemical involvement, babies aren't born at night. You almost got delivered by a guy who's only qualifications are to fix a busted nail and give you a perm."

Claire chuckled as she found the tax files she needed, "And as fast as that went, it would have been fine. This time, though, they stuck a label on me, I'm high-risk until further notice. No homebirth unless the little parasite quits blocking it's own door."

Dean leaned against the desk, "You okay with that?"

She shrugged, "It is what it is. I can't change it. I wanted another one, and all I can do is play the hand I'm dealt."

"When we, um... When we get the furniture switched over, might be a good time to put Melody in a bigger bed, leave her old one where it's at. Just in case, if she needs it for more than a couple of nights while you're getting back on your feet. Something familiar, right? We can fix up the room after."

"She belongs at home, with her parents and the baby, she needs to get used to it, not feel shoved out. I don't want her thinking she's just going to run off to your house and stay an only child, either," Claire said firmly, "And then, at some point, I need to talk to Dad about staying in driving distance if this goes past a certain point, because, um... Did you forget to sign these?"

Dean took the file from her, and set it on the desk, "You gonna finish that thought? Sounds important."

"Big risk of hemorrhage... Starting a week ago, I guess, and lasting up to a few hours after the baby's out," Claire said quietly, not meeting his eyes.

"Scary stuff," Dean said quietly, "Please tell me this doctor put the fear of god into your husband? Otherwise, I'm gonna have to have a conversation I don't even want to think about."

"You don't honestly think I would have married him if he didn't listen when I told him to knock it off, do you?" Claire snapped.

"No, I think he's gonna be incapable of telling you to knock it off, because he's used to doing anything you say," Dean retorted, "Wait a minute, are you supposed to be on bed rest?"

"Nope. Pelvic rest."

Dean grumbled unintelligibly as he hurried back to the phone.

* * *

With the students gone for the summer, Cas was busying about the school, assisting with every last-minute change imaginable. There had been a few comments regarding his dedication seeming so much more intense than previous years, but he'd managed to avoid explaining exactly how empty the house was, and how the silence tore at him.

Ducking into his office distractedly, staring at an enrollment form in his hands that was laden with errors, he didn't realize anyone was in the room with him until strong hands caught his waist, and tugged. He lost his footing as his heel caught awkwardly on his visitor's boot, and as his fall was guided, he was thankful to have landed roughly on someone's lap rather than on the floor.

"Hello, Dean," Cas said, with a less than amused tone.

"This couldn't wait, sorry," Dean said quietly next to Cas' neck.

"That's no excuse."

Dean shook his head, "It's not like that. Something came up. We need to reschedule the vacation."

"Until when?"

Dean's paused bothered him more than the news, "Um-"

"Dean? ...We've been planning this for a year, and we've been saving for it for three. What could possibly require putting it off?"

He felt Dean shrug, "I swear to god, if I kept my mouth shut and we went on this trip, you would never forgive me, okay?"

Cas quickly struggled out of the chair, turning around as he went, "What does that mean?"

"It doesn't have to be a big thing, we just call and say we want to go next year instead, okay?"

"Out with it," Cas demanded, moving to his usual chair.

"Claire's pregnant."

Cas gestured questioningly, "She couldn't possibly be due before the winter break, and even if she was, we could cut our trip a couple of days short if-"

"There's a complication. It's probably nothing, but that one percent chance it's something, you're going to want to be here."

"You're being cryptic and vague, and it's irritating me. If you're going to tell me there's a problem, be clear about it."

Dean nodded, "Okay, fine. I pulled out some medical stuff for a refresher, found one of Lisa's pregnancy books in there that had just what I needed, and here's how it goes: the baby attached low, not cool, but workable. Big chance of lots of small bleeds, small chance of big bleeds, and it's like a balloon, so as it stretches, the attached place usually goes up toward the top, gets the door open, so to speak-"

"Placenta previa isn't usually diagnosed before twenty weeks," Cas interrupted, "Are you sure you heard right?"

"She didn't tell me the diagnosis, she described it... Anyway, figure about a ninety-five percent chance everything is fine by thirty weeks, four percent chance of needing a c-section, and-"

"Worst case scenario, though, that's death from blood loss, possibly before the baby can survive outside the womb, and they both die," Cas said softly, giving a nod before running a hand over his face.

"The chances of that actually happening-"

"No," Cas said quickly, "You were right. If you had kept your mouth shut, or downplayed the problem, you're right, I would... I'll contact the travel agency."

"I suggested we leave Melody's room set up for her, and have them move her to a bigger bed over there, so, um..."

Cas nodded in silent understanding.

"Cas... It almost never happens, okay? Don't stress over nothing. There's a long time to go, and, just, give it time. She's gotten through everything else, she's tough. So we set up for the possibility she needs a section, Mel hangs out with us an extra day, plan to help out over at her place more so Alfie can focus on her and the baby instead of housework and meals, and everything is gonna be fine."

"Is she at home?" Dean avoided his eyes, "Dean? No, she's working, isn't she? You came into town to tell me this, and she's at work without someone with medical knowledge on hand."

"Don't get pissed at me, I asked her if she was supposed to be on bed rest, and she's not. She can handle light work if she wants to-"

"Claire doesn't do light work," Cas answered dryly, "Not when there's a task to conquer, and that new shop is her current horizon."

Dean shrugged, "What do you want me to do?"

"Move her to part time."

Through narrowed eyes, Dean shrugged, "Great. Sure. I'll put her on part time, and she'll freak out at me, I get to be the bad guy. No. You don't have to see her every day, if you want my life to be a living hell, you can convince her to go to part time yourself."

"Dean, this is serious."

"Last I checked, I know more about this than you, on all sides of this. I know the job, I know the medical stuff, and I work with her. I have a clearer idea of how serious this is, and it's a worse idea to piss her off right now."

"How can you sit there and tell me there's a chance, however small, that my daughter could go to sleep, have her baby kick the placenta a little too hard, and bleed to death before she ever wakes up, and-"

" _Our_ daughter."

"Would you be this blase about the risks if it were Ben?"

The room went silent as Dean glared at him, "You just went there..."

Cas' stone-faced reaction, clearly regretting nothing he'd said, was all the fuel Dean needed to get up and leave the room. Cas, however, made no attempt to stop him.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N2: Did not see that coming, just kind of popped in there. Yikes.)


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: This chapter was actually done in a matter of hours after the previous one was posted, that's how fast it went. It's incredible how much work you can put into a fanfic when you're supposed to be getting something else done, and you're on a deadline... I'm about 2/3rds done, deadline is tomorrow morning. Yikes.
> 
> And yeah, the next chapter is about half done, sooo... maybe I should be working on the jewelry for a church thing tomorrow instead of typing this stuff up at eleven o'clock at night...
> 
> THANKS FOR READING! FW)

* * *

Ivan made a face for a second, but it passed quickly, "Yeah, Julie's friend had that."

"Did she end up with a c-section?" Alfie asked, switching to a sharper pencil.

"Nah. The doctors said she'd have to, but then I guess they changed their minds. She had one before, though, with her first kid, and she said the second one was easier, no surgery."

The back yard was quiet, as the girls had run their energy off on the swing set and now sat in the shade playing with some small toys, and Ivan was on his laptop, headphones on, and attempting to fix a lyric he wasn't sure would fit a certain beat. He'd been sending messages to someone else about it, and Alfie had lost track of the many people he'd never met that Ivan had mentioned several times. He'd been assured he'd get to meet them, and would find them a pleasant bunch, but it all seemed far away and overly fast all at once.

Ivan looked up from his screen, "So, how much traveling can you do before things get to where you need to be home?"

Alfie shrugged, "Canceling the whole damn thing crossed my mind."

"Hey-"

"So did postponing, and Claire said to get it all done and be back by the time she's seven months, so, basically, rush it... I don't know, I really don't know what to do."

"Take it in stages?" Ivan suggested.

"Stages?"

"Sure. Roll out one portion at a time, keep it going for even longer."

Alfie's eyebrows nearly met, "How the hell do we do that?"

"I have some ideas. The important thing is to get enough out at the start that neither one of us look like we're riding coattails," Ivan replied, "The book was supposed to go last, if we put it first, we're on equal ground. All of this completely shit garbage we had laying around made the newer stuff come out faster, we've probably got enough here we could stop at this point and still have it all work, but-"

"We can keep adding to it until the public gets bored."

"Right. Forget the deadline."

Alfie was quiet as he looked across the lawn at the children playing, "It still seems like we jumped into the announcement too early, if we put it off, we have everything set, and no stumbling blocks-"

"And no audience, because they've lost interest. And if I remember right, you're gonna want something keep you busy, anyway, while you can't get any," Ivan said quietly.

"That's personal."

Ivan scoffed, "Nothing's personal around here. I can't hardly take a shower without Susie busting in because she left her weird-ass goth doll on the back of the toilet for god knows why."

Alfie couldn't help but laugh, "How do you keep that stuff quiet so you don't embarrass them when they're older?"

"Any time I get asked about them, I just give first names, ages, and use fifteen different ways of saying I'm proud. Wash, rinse, repeat. Then they ask about something else, and I'm off the hook... Unlike you, married, with a boyfriend, and dating five martians. Freak."

* * *

The sign at Morrison's had been torn down almost before Dean had signed the paperwork. Despite several attempts, the years spent empty had left the place dusty and lifeless. New paint was going to change that, along with actual flooring over the bare concrete everywhere but the garage. A crew had been contracted, and despite the bare bones of the place, she was certain it would be perfect by the final inspection.

Claire wandered the empty corners, soon to be filled with new equipment, taking photos to file in case of damages caused by construction, and for some time, heard only the sound of her own breathing, footsteps, and ghostlike whispers of the wind passing the building where it sat on a nearly desolate street.

The front door creaked open, sticking badly as someone forced their way through it. It was also on the list.

A flicker of panic at her current state of alone and unarmed without help in easy reach left her as her name was called, "Claire?"

She breathed easier at what, to her, was as harmful as a marshmallow, and made for the front of the building. She found Cas looking around the waiting room with curiosity until he spotted her.

"I saw your car," Cas explained. His stress was evident, and caused him to look noticeably older and very tired, "Uh, congratulations, dear, I..."

"Dean told you all of it," Claire guessed.

"Well... Yes, and-"

"Everything's okay, and even if it's not, it's still probably okay, just a little, you know, more difficult, I got this," Claire reassured him, "But what's not okay is I sure as hell can't give you any blood right now, so, you're going to have to schedule your next heart attack for after this is handled."

"Claire-"

"Dad, that last part, I'm serious. You're a mess, and I need you to chill out."

At a loss for words, conflicted between the happy news of a new grandchild and the danger to his daughter, Cas stepped closer and embraced her, "I can't help worrying about you. I've been doing that since before you were born."

"Yeah, but there's always a risk, and I wanted another kid. I know what I'm doing, I'm fine. I'm sure Dean told you that."

"Yes, he stressed that quite a bit, however, what he didn't tell me, and what he didn't know that I already knew, was that to find out this soon, you probably found out because you... had a reason to be concerned."

Claire shrugged, "Yeah, well, you're right. But I'm okay now. I'm cleared to be up and around, and I'm not overdoing it. Anything changes and I'm straight home, and the doctor's office is on speed-dial."

There was nervous energy about Cas, something that nagged at Claire even more than the itch of her barely stretching skin that had led to the maternity jeans coming out of storage earlier than expected, something he was holding back. She came very close to asking before deciding at the last moment that she probably didn't want to know.

"I'm almost done, then I'm meeting Alfie and Melody for lunch. Do you want to tag along?"

Cas shook his head, "I shouldn't, I have to get back to the school-"

"Are you tracking my phone?"

"Of course not," Cas replied quickly.

"So, you're busy at work, drove to the other side of town, spotted my car and came in to say hi...?"

Cas was hesitant, but caught, "Dean came to the school, there may have been a bit of a disagreement, and I knew he wouldn't be back to the shop yet, so I called and Blake told me you were here."

"Stalker."

"Claire, you..." he paused, considering his next words carefully, _are the source of most of my stress, despite both your brothers,_ he thought, "You matter more than you know, to more people than you would guess. And I can't only be speaking for myself when I say, I would worry less if you cut back on your hours."

"Cut back my hours?" she asked, getting a nod from her father, "When this place is hanging on the edge of happening and not happening?"

Cas gave her a level look, "That same stress could put your life on that edge."

"Why is it the minute a woman gets pregnant, she gets treated like she's the actual baby? ...Fine. Okay, I'm going to cut back a little, Alfie's already on my ass about it, and it's a matter of time with Dean."

"Thank you," Cas replied, already breathing easier than he had since Dean's arrival at the school.

"You owe me for this," Claire said, patting him on the arm as she moved past him to open a door to a small closet, and continued taking pictures.

Cas shrugged, "All right. What do I owe you?"

"I'll think of something."

* * *

Ben followed after Jack, a bit of disgust lagging in the back of his mind. That last encounter had been so odd.

Of course the only table at the coffee shop that wasn't already crowded held the powerbank attached to the phone in Millie's hand.

"Millicent, darling," Jack prodded, "May we join your fine, unescorted self?"

Millie shrugged, "Ben can, but you can keep walking."

"What?" Jack asked, "What'd I do?"

"Nothing, that's the problem," Millie chuckled, "No, I'm kidding, sit."

"On your lap?" Jack suggested.

"No."

"In your lap?" he tried again, getting a shake of her head, "Ben got a turn."

"Bye, Jack."

Ben silently took a seat, shifting his bag out of the way, as Jack ignored her last statement and sat down as well. He silently prayed Jack would shut up, and scoured his mind for an entirely different subject.

"Ben's single again, as long as we're on the subject," Jack mentioned as Ben gave the door a wistful look, "Just in case either of you wanted to figure out why stuff never really took off. I mean, come on, how bad was it?"

Millie spotted the red tinge on Ben's cheeks, but years of tomboyish behavior met with constant ribbing had giving her a thicker skin, "It wasn't. You should sleep with him and find out."

Jack chuckled, "It had to be, I mean, you left town right after that, so-"

"It was summer vacation," Millie protested.

"-And, actually, his ex just left-"

"He broke up with her a month ago, and still didn't charge her rent. Everybody knows Ben's a nice person."

"Nice enough to friendzone after you popped his cherry?" Jack asked, letting the question hang in the air.

"Jack, shut your face," Ben said quietly.

Millie turned to Ben, "I'll give you all the cash I have on me if you put him in a sleeper hold and knock him out."

"Don't, man. She's only got like, five bucks," Jack interjected.

"Give me another minute or two, I just might do it for free," Ben answered.

Jack had gotten his notes from an earlier lecture out of his bag and began transcribing them into an email on his phone. He made squelching sound with his cheeks, "Dude, I am trying to help you out. Relationship counseling, free of charge. You guys were so cute in eighth and ninth, what the hell happened?"

Millie met Ben's eyes for a second, scratching just a bit at the barrier of his only inflexible rule about dating - never get back with an ex. But the ambiguity of the lack of an official break up where Millie had been concerned raised a few questions.

Ben shrugged, "That's our business, not yours."

Jack shook his head, "Fine. But I'm running out of girls to throw at you... Or throw you at, I don't know what I'm doing."

"Got that right," Ben replied.

"He has a house all to himself, by the way. No roommates, either," Jack informed Millie.

She nodded, "I did hear about that, yeah... So, Ben, are you looking at fostering puppies again?"

Jack opened his mouth, but Ben saw it coming and had pulled a napkin from the tabletop dispenser, stuffing it into Jack's mouth as something resembling Xander's name emerged, "I don't have the time right now. I mean, the whole point is socializing them, getting them ready for a home, not keeping them cooped up all day while I'm trying for a couple summer credits and working the rest of the time. It wouldn't be fair."

Having pulled the napkin from his mouth, Jack nodded to Ben, "When are we breaking this place in with a party?"

"You've been there a million times, what's to break in?" Ben asked.

Jack shrugged, "Hang up a disco ball in one room, a black light in another, and we'll break those in. Get somebody to bring a few cases and kegs, really trash the place."

"And who's gonna clean it after?" Ben asked.

"God, Ben, when did you get boring?" Jack teased, "Don't worry, I'll help you shovel it out later."

Millie set her phone down, addressing Ben, "Probably a dumb idea, if they know you own the place, they'll burn the whole thing down before they think of any consequences."

"Okay. Okay, but you want to see this place, right? She needs to see the house, Ben. And the barn, and your rock collection and-"

"I don't have a rock collection."

"-you know, everything else you might want to show her, we gotta have Millie over," Jack insisted, "In fact, this weekend, right? Me and Xander will bring the booze, and you, Millie, you just show up, okay? You know where it is?"

Millie rolled her eyes, "Yes, I know where the only house between the gas station and Singer is, genius."

"Friday?" Jack asked, turning to Ben to ask it again, "Friday? Uh, eight or nine? Make it eight."

"I don't even have the power on yet, the water just got switched on yesterday," Ben protested.

"Eight. Awesome," Jack spoke over him, "Look, I gotta go, I'll see you both then!"

Millie shot Ben a sympathetic look as Jack left the table, and he muttered under his breath, "Douchebag."

* * *

Dinner was a quick take-out meal from Cas' way home, eaten at a half-empty table in an otherwise silent and dead house. Eye contact and words were kept to a minimum, as the kitchen, the heart of every home, was clearly on life support.

"I did what you asked," Cas said quietly as they both neared the end of their meal, "I spoke to Claire. She said she'd cut back her hours. That's one less thing to worry about."

Dean's voice took a resentful tone as he answered, "Did you tell her I love her less than my other kids while you were at it?"

The pain dug into him deeply, as he was sure it had for Dean earlier in the day. "Dean, I'm sorry, I was-"

"Don't bother."

The knife in his heart twisted further as Dean stood, carried the wrappings of his food to the trash can, and started for the living room.

Determined there'd be an argument before there'd be any more distance, Cas stood and moved into his path, "I am trying to make this right. I know it has to be hurting you as well, because you love the kids as much as I do, and it would kill me to lose any of them. I can't explain it, or quantify it, it's not less or more, it's just different with her. I held her on the day she was born, I failed her in too many ways to count, and it is taking everything I've got not to drag Alfie into some remote corner of the yard and demand that if a doctor ever suggests it's Claire or the baby, he chooses Claire."

"That is a one in a million situation, Cas. You're panicking over nothing."

"If it's nothing, then why-," Cas' voice betrayed him, "Why is it so hard to ignore? Why is it running through my mind that if we lose her, Xander won't be able to handle it? And if we lose him as well, am I going to be capable of burying two children and possibly a grandchild? And if that much stress adds me to that list, where does that leave you?"

Dean's expression softened slightly, and Cas was sure his outburst was having at least some effect.

"And if it's nothing, if I'm panicking over nothing, then why am I panicking in the first place?" he continued as Dean pulled his shaking shoulders into an embrace.

Dean rocked gently as Cas let his forehead drop to Dean's shoulder in an attempt to fight the tears back. "Don't think I'm not still pissed at you for saying it," Dean whispered, "But I get it. This shit is scary as hell... The shock is gonna wear off in a couple of days."

* * *

Claire lay on her back on the floor, a pillow under her head. She'd stripped out of her boots, jeans, and socks, and had a heel resting on each of Alfie's hips as he sat on the edge of the bed facing her, rubbing her ankles and lower legs.

"You know it's way too early for swelling, right?" Claire asked quietly.

"It's preventative," Alfie suggested with a partial smirk.

"Yeah, I believe you," she replied sarcastically.

He slid carefully off the edge of the bed to the floor, manipulating her legs to rest both calves on one of his shoulders, and settled his own legs, stretching them out on either side of her. The position was close, and one they'd been in before, albeit in an even closer manner. He continued gently up her legs, focusing this time on her thighs.

"So... Dean spotted my jeans, just, right away this morning."

"How'd that go?"

"It went... And then he took off to go do something, I don't know, so I go to get a few more photos, right? And my dad shows up. So you can guess where Dean was. Only, Dad looked like was a complete wreck over the whole thing, and.. Actually, before Dean left he asked if the doctor scared you shitless or if he was going to have to give you a talking-to. I'd put money on my dad wondering the same thing."

Alfie shook his head gently, his cheek rubbing softly against her knee, "I don't want to have that talk with them. I read everything I could find on it, I'm good, I can behave myself."

"It gets worse," Claire replied, adjusting to get an arm under the pillow, "I tried to say that, and apparently Dean's of the opinion that you'd cave if I told you to."

"I've turned you down in the past, I can do this, no problem," Alfie said quietly, as he got to her hips, and began working on a sore muscle Claire hadn't realized she had.

"Yeah, but never for months at a time, though."

Alfie shrugged as his hands slipped up inside the hem of her shirt, gently working the flesh at the top of her hipbones where the top of her underwear sat, "Nothing is as much a turn-off as the idea of you... um..."

"Losing a metric fuck-ton of blood out of my vagina?" Claire asked with a sarcastic tone.

"What are you doing?" Melody asked, starting at the doorway and entering the room with a pink hotwheel in one hand and a plush kitten in the other. She spotted a small gap between Claire's arm, torso, and Alfie's outstretched leg and decided the space was for her, stepping into it and curling against her mother.

"We're talking to the baby," Alfie answered.

"Baby has ears?"

"Yeah, of course the baby has ears," Claire answered, "But it needs to learn to hear, so we talk to it like we did with you."

"She had a lot of questions today," Alfie said quietly.

"An' you told Baby it comes out your pagina?"

Claire shot him a quizzical look.

"A _lot_ of questions," he reiterated.

"How's Kevin?" she asked a little too sweetly.

Alfie nodded, "He's good. She really needed a trim, though, and it's not like Margaret didn't tell him already."

"So you weren't just dropping the hard part on somebody who's already had to answer all those questions?" Claire asked.

Alfie changed the subject quickly, setting his hands on Claire's abdomen just below her navel, "Hi, Baby. Your big sister Melody wants to say hi to you."

Melody leaned over Claire's belly, "Is it gonna say hi back?"

* * *

Ivan rolled out of bed, scrambling for the phone and silencing the ringer as he ducked out the bedroom door. "Hello?" he answered.

Taking a click peek at the time at the top of the screen, he put it back to his ear, only to catch a stuffy, sniffling sounding young woman, "Ivan?"

"Yeah?"

"It's Lila. I'm sorry, I wasn't looking at the clock."

"No, no, it's cool, weird hours. What's going on?" he asked.

There was a familiar grit in her otherwise light alto tones, so while he didn't recognize the number, he was certain it was her. Interrupted and obscuring words with broken sobs and the occasional squeak, he soon gathered that her mother had stopped taking her calls, refusing to see her or speak to her. None of that sounded right, as Mama Steele, not even close to her real name, was known to be both reasonable and protective.

"What the hell? ...Why?"

"She says she tried, and she doesn't want to make it worse, I have to do this on my own, and... it's really hard."

"Do what?" Ivan asked sleepily as he managed to get a light on downstairs and plunked himself onto the couch.

Lila drew another congested breath, "Get clean."

"Oh, god, Lila... Tell me you didn't."

He settled his elbow on the arm of the couch and leaned his head on his hand as she continued, detailing what she'd been using, and for how long. She mentioned one of the people who gave it to her calling it a hazard of the occupation, which he had responded was crap, as he never touched the stuff.

"Seems like everybody's doing something, you can't get away from it," she said, and he detected a hint of a whimper in her voice.

"You don't have to do this. I don't do this. And when they set my stuff up for the last two tours, I was really clear, any kind of illegal substance, and it was void, and I'm gone. You gotta-"

"I don't care anymore!" she insisted, worrying him with how she might mean those words, "I mean, if it's public that I go into a rehab, I'm screwed. If I don't, I don't know, maybe I end up dead."

"Lila, hey, whatever thi-"

"I figured that part out, at least, okay? I don't want to die," Ivan breathed a sigh of relief at her words, and waited as she continued, nodding to himself, "I thought about walking away from all of it, and if that's what it takes, I'll do it, I'll be a washed up has-been, I just don't want to die... I'm scared."

"I hate to say it, but you should be. You're going in the right direction, though, I'm going to do everything I can," Ivan promised.

* * *


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: Did you guys still want me to warn you about sex scenes? lol
> 
> Got a flashback I think you'll find entertaining and enlightening.
> 
> Man, these are churning right out. I got my twitter back up, haven't been using it for a couple of months, @FythyrWisp 
> 
> Thanks for reading! FW)

* * *

Julie woke to the sound of cartoons and a busy kitchen and immediately checked her alarm, assuming she'd overslept.

Confused, she headed downstairs to find Ivan cleaning up the table, and running wash water in the sink. Something fragrant was still cooking on a low heat on the stove, and turning around she found Cyndi and Susie parked on the living room rug with the cartoons she'd heard from upstairs. She glanced at the clock, trying to think if there had been a time change that week that she'd missed, forgetting the last one had been a few months prior. The girls were fully dressed for the day, including shoes, braids for Cyndi and a high ponytail for Susie, and faces washed of whatever they'd eaten.

"Hey, honey," Ivan greeted her, "I think the coffee's done."

"What's-... Did we have something to do today?" Julie asked.

"No," Ivan shook his head, "I was just up early. I thought if we got a good start on the morning, it would make the rest of the day easier, and so far, it's working."

Julie looked back over her shoulder, and couldn't help but agree. She began sorting out a cup of coffee for herself, and Ivan began dishing up something from the skillet. Out of nowhere, a sinking feeling swept over her, "Wait... what did you do?"

Ivan paused, and set the skillet down, "I swear, this is-"

"No, don't give me 'I swear,' not on top of this. This is your 'I'm sorry I've been gone' routine, and putting 'I swe-'... You're leaving."

Ivan set the spatula down, turned off the burner as he glanced at the girls, then pulled Julie into the home office across the hall, "I'm sorry. I am so sorry, Julie, but this is not for work. I promise."

"It's not work? You were supposed to be home all summer with the girls. You said not to sign them up for summer care, remember? And on top of that, you've been palling around with Alfie, doing this big project, I have no idea if you're paying attention to them at all!"

The hurt in her eyes was offset by the quiet anger in her voice, and Ivan nodded, "You're right. I have been spending time with them, though, I'm not working every day, and so far we've been balancing it out really good, the girls are having a lot of fun, it's like a playdate. Remember, when you said about playdates, it gives the mom a break, too? Well, it's a working break. But they're having fun. And then, last night, I got this call, it's an emergency, I swear, baby, or I would never even think about it."

"What?" Julie asked, "What the hell is this craziness?"

Ivan nodded, grateful Julie was at least willing to hear him out. Steadying himself, he answered quietly, "Lila's using. She wants to stop, but she hasn't been able to. It's really early on, after she called me, I called her mom, her mother was a nurse, and she said-"

Julie started shaking her head, crossing her arms as he spoke, but he continued.

"-She said if she pretty much gets shut in a closet for a couple of weeks, it's over. Especially if she wants to get past it and stays clean... Lila called me because she already ran her mom off, and she doesn't have anyone else she can trust to keep her out of it."

Julie took a deep breath, letting it out as a look of intense frustration took over her face, threatening tears, "So... You're just going to run off for a vacation in L.A. with one of your rock star friends- No, wait, another woman, while I'm here, doing what I always do? Twiddle my thumbs, bust my ass, and wait for you to get home?"

"Julie," Ivan poured every ounce of patience he had into his words, "She's sick. If she doesn't beat this now, every day it's going to get harder. The faster it stops, the less likely she'll be to get back on it. I'm trying to save a life, here."

"That's exactly what rehab is for!" Julie protested.

"Rehab is full of it, people smuggle that crap in all the time, that's why so many people O.D. in rehab! And how's she going to keep that quiet?"

Julie shook her head as backed up a step as he reached for her, "Do whatever you're going to do. Obviously I don't get a say in this without looking like the big bad controlling bitch."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Ivan asked quickly in a hushed tone, "It's Lila we're talking about. She stayed with us for a week last year, she played with the girls, I thought you two hit it off?"

Julie's demeanor had changed. It was cold as it was calm, "Have a good time in L.A."

"Julie-"

"Nope. You made your decision. Go."

* * *

The first night, Cas had finally gotten himself scraped together, and made it to bed. He wasn't entirely certain where Dean was during that time, whether he'd eventually come to bed and gotten up early, or if he'd slept in another room, now that there was an unoccupied bed as well as two unoccupied couches that would have easily served his purpose. It might have been Dean, or his own tossing and turning that had disturbed the covers.

Dinner on the second night had been easier. The conversation was still wound tightly, but they'd found room to be a bit kinder to each other. Dean had been correct, the shock was wearing off, and that evening, while they weren't close about it, they did at least manage to sleep in their usual places.

Cas hadn't mentioned that the school building had been locked up for at least the following two weeks as he left early that morning, dead set in his plans, and as he'd hoped, he made it back only minutes after Dean had begun setting up for the day in the shop.

The door was unlocked, as expected, and Cas let himself inside, mindful of the sound of the door.

Dean was still sorting insurance emails, his first task of the day, usually, when a bright color caught his eye and drew his attention to the doorway. Cas seemed far more penitent and remorseful than hopeful, as he had the last two days, but it was beginning to pick up.

While Cas was certainly a man of words and actions, there was an effort that Dean hadn't anticipated, it had never crossed his mind.

Standing, Dean circled the end of the desk, taking his time approaching his husband in the doorway of the tiny room. He looked down at the proffered gift, and raised his eyebrows.

"It occurred to me last night, that despite all the small gestures, and even the bigger ones, it's been years, and I've never gotten you flowers," Cas said softly, "So I thought, maybe, you'd appreciate the gesture... I would have picked up a pie as well, but the bakery wasn't open yet."

Dean gave a hint of an amused shrug, "Well, pie would certainly suit me better than a tennis bracelet, that's for sure."

"Given your recent track record with jewelry-" Cas started, referencing Dean's missing rings before Dean interrupted.

"Hey, I still have the last ring you got me. The black one only you get to play with, remember?"

Pricking his ears up to listen that the shop was still indeed empty, Cas asked quietly, "Do you mean to tell me you're wearing it now?"

"No, I'm telling you I didn't lose it. Like I'm gonna walk around with that on me all day?"

"You could, it's flexible enough."

Dean cringed slightly, "Sweetheart, there's not a lot I wouldn't do for you, but..."

Cas held the dozen red roses out to him again, "Well, hopefully one of those things you will do, is forgive me for being an insufferable ass when I'm near my breaking point."

Nodding, Dean accepted the bouquet, setting it aside as he pulled Cas closer, "Next time, though, I'd settle for a box of candy over the pie."

"I'll make a note of it," Cas said quietly as his hands found Dean's waist, "In the meantime, I feel my behavior warrants a bit more than a box of candy and roses."

"No, the roses are nice, I get it, re-" Dean shortly had the breath knocked out of him as his back hit the wall that had been to his side, and Cas kicked the door closed.

The unusual location for such activities had Dean concerned, and in reflex he attempted to loose Cas' hands from his belt and jeans, but he had difficulty objecting through a kiss he didn't want to end.

"Hey, any minute, we're gonna have company," Dean fussed.

Scoffing in reply, Cas shook his head, "I'll be quick. It's not like I've bent you over the desk, much less out front."

"Yeah, but the bathroom has a lock, and-" Cas dropped to his knees to take Dean, already half hard, into his mouth, feeling fingers tangle in his hair as Dean slowly regained the ability to breathe, despite Cas' best efforts.

The door had at one time been the exterior door of the shop, which was why it was thick, heavy, and contained a pane of glass, but when Bobby had purchased the property decades before, he found it too flimsy, and given the number of break-ins he'd suffered at his last place of business - two thirds of which were committed by Dean himself - he'd replaced it with a sturdier door, and repurposed the old one to it's current use. It blocked sound well, which made it particularly good for phone calls in such a noisy environment.

That near perfect soundproofing was the reason why, when Lucas arrived to clock in, not only did he not hear the panting, desperate sounds coming from the back of Dean's throat, neither Cas nor Dean noticed the sound of the front door.

Confused, and slightly concerned as he reached the hallway, finding only the third bay door open and the rest closed, leaving the garage dark, Lucas started down the dark hallway expecting to find Dean in the garage, still setting up.

Reaching the middle of the hallway, however, and as the light was clearly on in Dean's office, he glanced in, and slowed to a stop as he reached the end of the hallway, certain his eyes were playing tricks on him. Backing up two steps and giving a brief lean, however, his suspicions were confirmed, and he hurried away into the garage.

Boots crunched on gravel outside, and Claire entered through the bay door on a direct path for the hallway and with a still-startled expression, Lucas stepped directly in front of her.

"Dude, what?" Claire asked quickly.

"I, uh, I need to talk to you," Lucas said quickly, "Outside."

"Yeah, okay, let me clock in, and-"

"Now. Like, super-now. Yesterday, even."

"Two seconds," Claire replied, still attempting to pass him.

In a burst of genius idiocy, as she left the distance where he could easily grasp her arm, words began to tumble forth, "I slept with your brother."

Claire turned on her heel, giving a surprised blink, "What?"

"Yeah. That's, um-"

"That's none of my business."

"And your husband."

Claire gave herself a second to process his words before shaking her head, "You're an idiot. If you're going to be on some trash t.v. show, don't drag my family into it."

"Okay, okay, just, please, right this minute, come outside, I have to talk to you," Lucas pleaded.

She made every attempt to ignore him and continue to the front of the shop before he jumped forward and dragged her back by one arm, "You seriously did not just grab me. There are power tools in here. Do you have a death wish?"

"Your dads are busy in there."

Claire stumbled slightly as he dragged her toward the open bay door, despite it taking all the effort of his small frame to do so, "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Busy, like getting busy," Lucas replied.

"Quit screwing around, I-" she started, yanking against him and nearly freeing herself.

"I'm not, they are! Don't believe me? You want to go check? Because your dad's car is out front, and the last thing I needed to see today was two grandpas getting their old-guy groove on," Lucas answered, coming to a stop and letting go of her arm, "Fuck it. I'm done. I'm gonna hit the paint shed for the next... How long do married people take when they get after it?"

Claire shook her head, still skeptical as she followed him toward the open door. The sound of the front door opening, and presumably Randy's heavy frame making the chair at the desk squeal stopped them both in their tracks.

"We should warn-"

"Nah," Lucas replied, "He'll be typing for a while, he won't-"

The chair squealed again as they reached the door, and with seconds of frozen conflict, they ran out of time.

"Oh, Jesus! Sorry!" Blake called, clearly retreating back toward the desk, "Sorry! What the fuck...?"

Lucas turned to Claire with an arrogant grin, "You really should learn to trust me."

* * *

Ben looked over his shoulder at the front door where it sat open, expecting Jack at any time, but only cautiously.

Millie had taken a seat close by, and spoke up as he checked his phone once more, "I don't think Jack would have offered to drag Xander and whatever cheap alcohol he's got all the way out here for a grand total of four people."

Ben nodded, "I don't, either. He's either bringing a bunch of folks, or, um-..."

"Yeah," Millie said quietly.

The house was growing dark, but Ben didn't want to turn on the electric camping lanterns until it was necessary.

"So... When did you get the scooter?"

"Junior year of high school. You don't remember?" Millie chuckled.

"I remember as little as possible of high school."

Ben listened closely to the resulting silence as he expected to hear crickets chirping, but not even the crickets were willing to take on the awkward stillness in the house.

"I was thinking it over, what you said about not getting any pets yet... Maybe once you've got power, you could set up an aquarium," Millie offered as a break from the silence that had the potential to become maddening.

Ben shrugged, "Maybe... Oh, hey, are you enrolled for next year?"

"Yeah. My cousin talked me into sticking it out."

"Aubrey or Jen?"

"Rocky, actually," Millie replied.

Ben searched his memory quickly and came up with only one, "Rocky who was two years ahead of us?"

Millie gave a small laugh, "Yeah. I know, you need a chart to keep track of how many cousins I have. Rocky is Dad's sister's kid."

Ben nodded, "Right... Okay, it's been forever, I'm gonna call him again."

"Try Xander instead. I think you're more likely to get an honest response."

"Why not?" Ben asked, getting up from the couch as he typed.

"You know Jack was probably just trying to get me over here, and get us alone, right?" Millie asked over her shoulder.

Ben's phone chirped with a reply from Xander that showed a photo of Jack deeply involved with an online game, "Yeah, I figured that was probably what he was up to. I just didn't want to call him on his crap because he just helped me move in."

"We could just get it out of the way, I guess."

That caught Ben's attention, sending a shiver down his spine, "What?"

"Talking it out... I mean, we've been pretending nothing happened for years, now-"

"Whoa, hold on," Ben protested, moving back to his seat on the couch, "You sure as hell haven't. You're the one who told Jack, and Jack tells everybody everything. And I know for sure it was you, because I only told one person, and swore them to secrecy. And past that, you told him it was my first time, and you completely left out the part about it being your first time, too."

Millie nodded, "Yeah, I guess that was stupid, I was embarrassed. And, honestly, I said it to shut Jack up, and I really thought it would score you some points with the other guys, since they were kind of picking on you at that point."

"Okay, so, are you going to bring it up, or am I?" Ben asked, watching as in the fading light, Millie hid her face in her hands as she began to blush deeply.

"It would be so much easier to talk about this if we were drinking."

"We are drinking. We're drinking sodas. Just, you, um... You snuck out, and it wasn't because my parents came home. I mean, I was freaking out-"

"I'm so sorry, really," Millie insisted as an embarrassed laughter took over, "I really wasn't expecting my period that day, and that was just awful."

"Dude, the laundry I left all over my bed that day was a godsend. I managed to hide it, then smuggled it into the trash, but everything was going great, and then you freaked out and split. I saw all of that all over me, and... I thought I hurt you."

The fear and confusion he'd carried that week ages past was suddenly sharp once again, and he recalled his hushed phonecall to Kevin, who had eventually picked him up and drove out to a wide spot on a county road to get the entire story out of him. Eventually Kevin had settled him, gave him the most likely explanation, and taken him home, though Ben hadn't felt very reassured. Ultimately, however, the solution Kevin had pressed for the hardest, which was actually speaking to Millie about it, had been thrown out the window. Until now.

"You know, as many times as I thought about talking to you about it, that never even crossed my mind," Millie said softly, "You didn't, though, honest... I feel just awful, now."

Ben shook his head, "I figured it out eventually."

"Yeah, but still, you were only, uh... I wasn't supposed to be driving yet,-"

"Nearly sixteen. You were, though, we were in that gap," Ben commented.

"-I panicked... But, I guess, you probably panicked worse," Millie said, sympathy in her voice, "I didn't know what else to do, so I avoided you."

A hush fell as both were lost in their own thoughts and memories of the same day. Sunset had finally stolen the last strands of daylight, and Ben sat forward on the edge of the couch, fumbling for the button on the electric lantern where it rested on the coffee table.

The weak light cast a golden glow as he turned back to his guest, meaning to speak, but was distracted as the light glinted on one of her earrings. It took him another breath to get the words out, "Just so you know, I think that was too soon... For me, anyway... And since it kind of put me off girls completely for a year and a half after that, well... Probably for the best."

"So, you're saying I traumatized you?"

Ben laughed, "That's not what I meant, not like-"

"I did, though, Didn't I?" Millie asked, "And the worst part is, up until that point, when I realized what was going on, everything was great."

"Really?" Ben asked with a sarcastic tone, finding it unlikely at best.

"I'm serious. You really took your time, too. And you're probably the only guy that never argued with me about protection."

Ben turned her statement over in his mind, found himself uncomfortable with the idea of continuing the conversation further, and shrugged, "So, since they've decided to waste our time, did you want the tour?"

"Do I get to see your rock collection?" Millie asked with a smirk.

"'Rock collection' is Jack's code for 'stones,' and you already saw those," Ben answered, picking up the lantern. She stood to follow him, and he edged around the coffee table to show her around, "Sorry, I should have gotten this out of the way before it got dark."

"It's more fun this way," Millie insisted, "Pretend it's abandoned and haunted or something."

Ben chuckled, "You mean, act like children?"

"No, act like goofballs. You can be a goofball at any age, and it doesn't mean ignoring any responsibilities," Millie replied as she followed.

A missing piece of a puzzle slid into place, something Ben had forgotten while he and Millie had been desperately avoiding each other during their very odd, extremely stressed, and never fully resolved break-up. She was fun. She was fun with her clothes still on. And he missed it.

* * *

The sun had already started to set when Cas and Dean had left the house, walking over to the smaller one in the junk yard to babysit. It had been Alfie's idea, to better prepare Melody for the eventual arrival of her younger sibling by getting the newness of being in that house with her grandfathers out of the way. He'd also insisted that Claire wouldn't even attempt a nap without her beloved paperwork, and he was clear that he needed her to take a break and insisted on going out.

The feel of Dean's hand in his own was no surprise to Cas, and did nothing to slow his steps.

"Just a few more months... You sure you're cool with living in the yard?" Dean asked.

The twisted metal heaps and the newer, or sometimes, classic, junkers and wrecks didn't put him off as they might have done for some people. Cas cast a look across the place in consideration, "Of course. This place holds plenty of fond memories for me. I'll be comfortable."

Dean pointed to a spot near the side of the shop, further off, "Yeah, like where Claire punched out that asshole kid... Oh, right about here is where she went after you with the tire iron."

Cas shot Dean an unamused look, "And that's where Ben and Xander were throwing tools at each other and scratched the paint on your car."

"Yeah, well, for that alone, we should move further away," Dean muttered.

Closing the distance to the porch, Cas slowed. Perhaps it was the shadows, or the temperature, or some hint of a forgotten scent, but a memory returned as he found himself looking at the chairs on the porch.

The two weather-beaten seats, occasionally separated by a small table which was currently tucked into a corner of the porch, held two very conflicting memories for him. Particularly the one next to the door. That chair was where he had sat quietly as Dean tried gently to explain over the sound of the rain the terminology Claire had used when she had tried to tell him exactly how extreme her mother's abuse had been. It was the same one where, only moments after Melody's birth, he'd sat down to wait in the warm night air for the last few minutes before Alfie arrived home. Absolute pain and suffering at one end of the spectrum, and elation and hope at the other.

But there was another memory that came to mind as he stood, staring at the porch.

Dean nudged Cas' shoulder with his own in a soft bump, "Hey... Don't worry about it, okay? I'm gonna get you a nice glider swing, nothing to install, and we'll have something to cuddle up on."

* * *

** Then **

* * *

Cas had noticed right away, and out of a misguided attempt to respect his teenage daughter, or possibly flat-out denial, he'd made a note and pressed the suspicious thoughts to the back of his mind. Certainly, if something were wrong, Claire would broach the subject.

She was uncomfortable around most people, but men in particular seemed to cause her to shrink inward and go quiet. The echoes of his ignored instincts hung around, chanting awful possibilities in a whisper just behind his ear.

The first time, he chalked it up to getting to know the neighbors, or perhaps boredom. He took no action, and he didn't bother to mention it, but he did notice.

The second time he arrived home from work to spot Claire sitting on Bobby Singer's front porch, however, a concern began to grow.

It was too new. Alan had had some contact with the man, and while Alan was no longer around, nor in contact, he had no reason to distrust his ex boyfriend's assessment of the man. Alan had called the older fellow a gruff sort of friendly, and mentioned that he seemed fairly tolerant for a redneck. He wasn't sure what had Claire going over there to begin with, but as she was nearing fifteen, and as much as he would have liked to glance over it, she was filling out her clothes, he worried about broaching the subject of the dangers she could be putting herself into.

The last thing he wanted to do was upset his daughter.

Cas told Claire the following morning to take the school bus home, and planned a half-day. Leaving work earlier than usual, he arrived home, and pulled into his usual spot before taking a short walk down to the second driveway from the highway, the one that accessed the small house in the junkyard.

Bobby must have seen him through a window, as he stepped outside to meet him on the porch before Cas could even reach the steps, much less scale them.

"Somethin' wrong with your car?" Bobby asked, wiping his hands on a dishtowel before slinging it over his shoulder.

"Mr Singer," Cas started, looking up at him with a voice that seemed to come out more angry than he'd intended, "I'm Cas Novak, I live up the road... You've been spending time with my daughter so regularly, I wanted to come over here and get a little better acquainted."

Bobby huffed slightly in a dismissive matter, "No, you didn't."

"No?" Cas asked, unused to being informed what his own thoughts were.

"Nope," Bobby continued, "You're worried about what kind of no-good scumbag hangs out with little girls. As you should. But trust me, anybody tries to start anything with that little girl, I'm fairly certain you and I are gonna be on the same page about it."

Despite his best efforts, Cas was sure his face was conveying his emotions, "Mr Singer-"

"She said you're new at this, didn't see her much before she moved in with you. That's got to take a lot of getting used to. Now, seems she was in a rough spot, she says she's safer here with you, but you're not here all the time. That's got her spooked. I never had kids, but, seems to me, if she's scared of being home by herself at that age, maybe you oughta find out why."

"Are you taking it upon yourself to tell me how to raise my child?"

Bobby gave an unassuming shrug, "You gotta start somewhere."

* * *

** Now **

* * *

Bobby's attempt to warn him, to prod him into asking the question, had been ignored, as he refused to press the issue. By that time, according to Cas' assessment, there was already a pistol sans firing pin hidden in Claire's room.

It was the only time he'd spoken to Bobby Singer. Looking back, he understood far better what he couldn't see through his haze of judgement, concern, and anger. Bobby had offered him advice, solid advice, and he didn't take it. Bobby had reassured him, even though Cas didn't know the man well enough to trust him, that not only was Claire safe with him, but that he was willing to protect her. The man had acknowledged Cas' lack of experience as father while also offering the information that he had had no children himself, likely to try to make Cas feel he was on an even playing field.

Cas had stormed off.

Knowing what he knew now, he wished he could take it back.

He felt Dean's hand on his back, "C'mon, Cas, we've got a tea party waiting."

Nodding, but still quietly observing his passing thoughts, Cas started up the stairs.

* * *


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: I think y'all will like this one. I'm going to be churning out as much as I can on my phone this coming weekend, as I've caved to guilt, and I'll be spending several hours by road to hit the beach, not get eaten by a shark (hopefully) and see my grandma. We'll see how that goes. Just to be clear, she's nice to me, not at all the inspiration for Margaret's grandma, I just don't want to make the trip.
> 
>  
> 
> Okay, here we go. Thanks for reading!!! FW)

* * *

Ben's steps were careful as he led the way through the darkened house, showing Millie the kitchen, the patio just outside the back door, the master bedroom that Caitlin didn't like and had left untouched, which was where he'd planned to move in before she had left, and had now finally done so. He hurried her along as best he could, competing with the darkness, and leaving no closet door or cabinet unopened.

Millie climbed into the midsized bathtub in the master bath as a joke, asking how cold the water was likely to be, only for Ben to inform her the water heater was gas powered, and he'd had no problems with the temperature.

He'd even showed her the garage and had nearly bypassed the last room, hoping to head out to the barn if she was interested, but before could stall her, Millie had her hands on the beaded curtain, "Is this where the door from the garage goes?"

"Um, yeah," Ben said quietly, "Caitlin had a thing about doors, she didn't like them."

"Well, that sucks for Jim Morrison, huh?" Millie replied, "Can I check it out?"

"There's not really anything in there, but yeah, if you want," Ben answered, offering her the lantern.

Millie's head tipped to the side as if to tell him in a single second that he was being ridiculous, but that she would ease him out of it. She reached past his hand to take his wrist rather than the lantern, and pulled him through the beaded curtain after her.

Ben hadn't gone near the doorway since he'd moved in days before, and still didn't know what to expect. The last time he'd been in the room, it had been on far better terms with the previous occupant, even if she had been hurrying him on his way so she could get back to her books, having settled her physical needs. At the time, he told himself it was because she was busy, and he cared for her, but now, he just felt used.

The room was empty, with little change since Caitlin had moved in there in the first place, aside from the door's stringy replacement and the plastic that had been removed from the mattress he'd helped break in. The window blinds had taken some damage from objects that had been stacked there, and the sill bore a ring from a forgotten cup. The carpet saw a bit more wear than the master bedroom and the guest room, but it wasn't visible in the meager light of the lantern.

"She didn't even paint?" Millie asked, "I don't see any damage to the walls, I guess she didn't hang anything up, either."

"I think that fell under the 'waste of time,' category," Ben answered.

Millie turned to see his face, "Did you fall into that category as well?"

Ben shrugged awkwardly, "Technically, I broke it off with her, but if she knew how to do it herself, I think she would've broken it off months ago."

She turned slowly in place before giving up, "Well, this sucks."

"What should I do to make it suck less?"

Millie chortled, "Nothing. It's gonna suck no matter what you do, don't beat yourself up."

"How about the barn? You wanted to see that, right?" Ben suggested, starting toward the back door of the house as Millie followed after him.

"Well, if you need a whole barn for your rock collection, then, yeah. I gotta see that," Millie teased.

The front door still stood open, partially in expectation of Jack and Xander's foregone arrival, and partially to cool the house, as the heat was gas, but the air conditioning was electric. Ben paused, considering whether he should close it before going outside, and upon turning to move toward it, Millie, who was watching her footing in the dark, ran into him heavily. She caught herself on his arm, startled by the sudden stop, and although the lantern had a partial hood keeping the light directed off their faces, a rather pathetic one at that, there was still an expression on Millie's face he would recognize anywhere.

"I left the door open," Ben said, not intending to whisper, yet that was how the words came out.

The half-formed smirk Millie wore when she was wrapped up in a good adventure dropped immediately, but the glint of humor still played in her eyes.

"Oh, shit... Do you think some horrible monster or serial killer, or a wild animal got in?" she teased in an equally hushed voice.

"No, I don't think-" Ben started, but a loud thud made him jump, drawing their attention to the open door, swing swung slowly on it's hinges at an odd gust of wind, already having hit the wall. Ben put an arm around her, directing her into the kitchen, "Climb up on the fridge."

"What?" Millie laughed.

"Onto the counter, then onto the fridge. I wasn't paying attention to the door, and yeah, there's coyotes out here. I need to sweep the house."

"Sweep the house?"

"Gun, not broom," Ben explained as Millie scrambled onto the counter, and then, as directed, taken a seat on the top of the fridge.

"Holy crap, you're serious? You're going to go room to room with an actual gun?" Millie's voice had become concerned.

Ben shrugged, "They aren't domestic dogs, they're dangerous. If you're up here, you're fine, and I know where you are in case there is something, and I can't chase it out."

"If you're doing this to try to look tough, Ben-"

"I'd do it even if I was here by myself," Ben argued, "Please, don't move. I'm serious."

"Okay," Millie answered meekly.

"Use the light on your phone to watch the door for me in case anything tries to come it, or I chase something out, and this should only take a minute."

Ben took the lantern with him as he went back to his room, taking one of Bobby's old revolvers out of a locked case in a drawer and loading it quickly. He did indeed 'sweep the house,' but didn't bother to raise the weapon, finding it highly unlikely anything had actually entered. From the top of the fridge, Millie was silent, watching the open door with the brighter flashlight function on her phone.

Everything had been as expected until Ben reached the bathroom next to Caitlin's old room, the last place he intended to check, and was greeted with a hiss. Spotting the creature, and the size of it, he pulled the door shut and went back to the kitchen, tucking the gun into his waistband before reaching for a broom.

"Now what?" Millie asked, still watching the door, "You're going to sweep the building for real this time?"

"Something got in," Ben answered with what he hoped was an ominous voice.

"What?" Millie asked.

"A possum," he answered with a lighter tone, "It's too big to keep it for a pet, though."

"Oh, hell no!" Millie said with a shudder, "What if it has rabies?"

"Well, then I guess it's a good thing you're up there."

"Don't! Ben, c'mon, call animal control or something, don't-"

Ben stepped back, giving what he hoped was a decent Han Solo impression through body language alone, spreading his arms and giving an arrogant tilt to the head before hurrying off to the closed bathroom.

Chasing the animal out ended up remarkably easy, as he'd closed doors throughout the house as he'd gone, and only the beaded curtain gave any chance at an issue. He'd blocked it with his body as he went, shooing the animal to the front door, and closing it quickly after it bustled out.

He returned to the kitchen cooly, setting the broom back on it's hook inside the pantry door.

"You didn't get bit, did you?" Millie asked quietly.

"Opossums are naturally resistant to rabies. There was really nothing to worry about."

"You have a gun in your pants," she commented, shining her phone's light on Ben's waist as he moved to the front of the fridge, "Are you compensating?"

Ben scoffed and reached for her, bringing her gently to the floor, "You'd be in a better position to tell me that than I would."

He turned to go back to his room and put the gun away, and Millie followed after him, "So you just scared the crap out of me over a little rat?"

"North American Marsupial. It's actually pretty cool stuff, if you're paying attention," Ben said quietly, approaching the drawer and unloading the pistol. He quickly had the case shut and locked once more, closed the drawer, and turned around to find Millie sitting on his bed.

"They have a pouch?"

"Yeah," Ben said quietly, sitting down next to her, "They carry other diseases, though, I was joking about keeping it for a pet."

"What's cool about them?"

"They have prehensile tail, like a monkey, they move fast, and they keep the tick population down. Oh, and they're mostly immune to snake venom."

Millie shifted on the bed to look at him more directly, "I thought they were supposed to fall over."

"Were you?"

"What?"

"Were you going to faint?" Ben asked, "Because that would have been funny. You get scared of the possum, the possum gets scared of you, and you both faint. That would go viral."

"Girls don't actually faint, you giant-"

It was at that point Ben took a chance, wondering how badly he'd regret it later. Backing up after, giving her time to process, he was fully prepared to be slapped, argued with, walked out on, or laughed at.

"I missed you," Millie whispered.

He wasn't expecting that.

* * *

As Ivan had his hands busy with a half finished stack of grilled cheese sandwiches, Alfie took it upon himself to answer the door, carrying Melody on his hip.

Despite expecting her, Naomi's presence always caught him off-guard. She was looking around the front yard, and seemed pleased with the car in the driveway and the view of the house she'd taken in so far.

"It looks like fatherhood is bringing you to your senses," she commented.

Alfie nodded, understanding her immediately, "This is Ivan's house. I still live in the junk yard."

Naomi took a sidelong glance at the car.

"Yeah, um, I can't put her on the Harley until she's five, and Claire's car isn't built for car seats. Essentially, the Olds' is Melody's," Alfie explained.

Naomi stepped inside so he could close the door, eyeing the preschooler, "And this is she?"

"Yep," Alfie replied, starting back to the kitchen rather than pretend Naomi had any genuine interest in her great-niece.

"Your mother would like a photo."

"I bet she would," Alfie answered. Once he'd stepped out of a whispering earshot, he pleaded quietly next to his daughter's tiny ear, "That lady is my mom's sister. I'll give you a cookie later if you call her Granny."

Naomi continued to cast her eyes around, assessing the home, but was far less impressed by what she saw. After Ivan had settled the children at the table, the three adults began going over the details housed in Naomi's attache case at the coffee table in the living room.

"You're taking all this to Austin yourself?" Ivan asked.

"Yes. Once your group has copies confirming that the signatures are on the approved papers, everything will be in place, and I'll handle the details with them. But both of you need to stay available by phone, and don't do anything without running it by us first," Naomi answered, "This is a very ambitious undertaking, you know."

"Even more now that I have to step out for a bit," Ivan replied, clicking his pen in a rhythm.

Naomi turned her eyes on him, "What for?"

"Personal stuff," he answered flatly.

Naomi turned to Alfie giving a cryptic tilt to her head, causing Alfie to shake his head, "None of your business, I know all about it, and we already let his goonsquad know to put the book out first. I'll handle a few online things, and we'll do a live broadcast out of his pet radio station to kick it off, then in three weeks we'll meet up in New York City for the visuals release."

"But everything is done already, correct?" Naomi asked.

"Nothing is ever done," Alfie answered, "I might be adjusting color settings just seconds before opening, you know that."

"And the recordings? When do those go public?" she asked.

"That's going to be a bit further out. We might put out a few online, maybe add a download code in the book, I might do a couple acoustic ones at the gallery, we'll see how it goes," Ivan said quietly.

Naomi looked back and forth between them, "I don't like being left out of the loop, and I like it even less when you seem to have no plan at all to work with."

Ivan scoffed, "The artistic mind doesn't punch a clock, lady. You want a game-plan, talk to somebody with a desk."

"Or Claire," Alfie offered, making Ivan chuckle, "She gets shit done."

"I hate you both, I just want to be clear about that," Naomi said smoothly, "Now, you both added a lot of loopholes, you're both in a position to royally screw this up. This entirely depends on you both respecting each other and actually showing up when you say you will, do you understand?"

"Yep," Ivan replied as Alfie gave a nod.

"Also, there are going to be all sorts of rumors, I want you to keep your mouths shut. Allow the speculation and conjecture, I don't care if they're suggesting you sold your souls to Satan, just leave it alone."

"How much could we get for them?" Ivan asked, "What did he give you for yours?"

Alfie hid a heavy chuckle as Naomi gave a steely glare that would have equated to an eyeroll by anyone less uptight before she turned to him, "Is Kevin Tran involved in this in any way?"

"Uh, no? Well, I sent Ivan to him for a haircut, that was it."

Naomi capped her pen and set it down, "He did a good job... Ivan, I researched you thoroughly, listened to a few of your albums, and I have to admit, you do have talent. This could work. However, what your people haven't seemed to get across, is that there will be rumors about you taking Kevin's supposed place, and as such, we need Kevin to make an appearance in New York. And you and Kevin need to seem friendly. Anything else would be damaging to both of you."

"What if he's busy?" Alfie asked.

"You gave yourself a reputation in the public eye, dear," Naomi chided, "Now you have to live with it. Do as I say, and your audience won't chew you up and spit you out. I'll pay for his accommodations."

Having finished her food, Melody had wandered over to look, her fingers still greasy and covered with toasted crumbs. She leaned against Alfie's knee as she pointed to Naomi, "Is Granny gonna visit at our house?"

* * *

Ben woke groggily as the summer air, barely cooled by the wide open window began to warm considerably. The sun was high in the sky by that time, as it had been a long night, and cracking one eye open, he found Millie stretched out next to him.

The house had been too hot, even for sheets, and he raised himself on one elbow, taking in an eyeful he couldn't make out the night before.

She had stayed. Aside from the few times it had occurred on accident, Ben had never woken up the following day to find his companions still with him. He wasn't sure if it was just a habit the whole town held, or if it was college in general, perhaps living with his parents, or Caitlin being Caitlin had been the cause, but this part was new.

Without meaning to, and grateful she wasn't looking when he did, Ben glanced down from instinct, happy to find less mess than his sleepy, fleeting thoughts had suggested may have occurred before reminding himself that she now had far less chance of being embarrassed. With a finger he traced the spot on her spine where he'd unhooked her bra hours before, "Hey, Millie?"

A high toned sleepy hum questioned him. He wanted to lean close and put an arm around her, whisper in her ear, but it was too warm. He'd woken up still sweating from the night before, and the faint glint on her skin made it obvious he wasn't the only one.

He slid off the bed with a smirk, his first thought to grab his boxers from the floor before shrugging the inclination away. The warmth of the room muddled his brain, but apparently he'd gotten each of the condoms into the disposable cup on the floor by the bed as he'd hoped. He tried to piece it together as he went to the kitchen, how after a quick and frenzied session had left them both breathing heavily, they'd talked for some unknown amount of time before going again... How many times? There had been a lot of talking. He remembered little of it, but there were a few things he'd avoided opening up about, even with people he trusted, he knew that.

Opening the fridge, in the bottom was a tub of mostly melted ice in a bag from the gas station, and above it, with a shelf removed for space, was a cheap styrofoam cooler. Removing the lid of the cooler, there a few basic essentials stored in far more solid ice. He was looking forward to Monday, when the power would be on, even if Claire had suggested putting a generator in the back yard.

He scooped up some of the ice into a glass, filling it the rest of the way at the sink, and went back to the bed, sitting down carefully.

"Hey, listen, I've got enough stuff in the kitchen to scrape together some toast and scrambled eggs, if you're up for that," he said softly, gaining only a mumble from her. He watched her back rise and fall as sleep kept her breathing in a steady rhythm, "I can whip that up if you want to grab the first shower."

Scratching slightly at the thin stubble on his jaw, he had to remind himself who he was speaking to, and it worked. Ben dipped his fingers into the glass and pulled out a piece of ice, knocking her hair away from the back of her neck before holding it to her skin and making her jump and squirm away. She sat up quickly, disoriented, with an adorably angry look of disheveled irritation as she met his eyes.

With no concern about the water in the glass, her hand flew as she reached into it, scooping out several pieces and applying them directly to his testicles. With a yelp he jerked, splashing the cold water on himself and furthering his discomfort as she snatched the glass out of his hand while he scrambled off the bed. Smoothing her hair back from her face, unconcerned with her state of absolute undress, she drank deeply before passing him the now half empty glass, "Eggs are fine by me, but if you're getting near the stove, an apron might be a good idea."

Something Ben didn't understand washed over him, and suddenly it was as if the years of an emotional wall between them had never happened. There was no embarrassment, no tension, only one lingering concern, which blurted from his lips before he could stop it, "I don't want this to be some rebound thing."

She'd inched to the other side of the bed to get up, but his words made her pause. She shrugged before resuming her path toward the bathroom, "Okay."

"Wait, what do you mean, okay?" Ben asked.

"I mean, 'okay.' We weren't really thinking last night as much as unloading, and wherever that goes from here, I'm glad we talked, that's all... Every now and again, though, sometimes rebounds last longer than what you were rebounding from, though, so... Whatever."

She started to close the door before realizing the lack of a window would leave her without light, but Ben took her automated gesture as the door being closed, dragged his jeans on, and made for the kitchen as the water began to run.

* * *

Going through his usual pre-trip routine with the girls, the chill Ivan was getting from Julie was rough.

He had a late flight, and a ride to the airport, so there was nothing left for Julie to do. He put the girls to bed, and came downstairs to find Julie curled up in a chair, buried in a novel.

"I didn't plan this," Ivan said softly, "But if you want to make the best of it, you could take off work, bring the girls out after a couple weeks, and we can hit an amusement park or something."

Julie raised her eyes briefly before going back to her book, "Not likely," she answered.

"Baby, please, don't be pissed at me about this," Ivan stressed, sitting down immediately in front of her on the edge of the coffee table, "Julie, I really meant to take it easy this summer, and-"

"I had no idea when this was starting, that you were going to be gone so much... I could deal with it, really, but this was supposed to be your time to take a break, and be with your kids before everything got hectic again, and... Not only did you start something huge with Alfie, you're spending the last couple of weeks before it kicks off by holing up in an apartment with..."

Ivan reached for her hand, "I have never cheated on you, Julie."

"Not much stopping you, though. I mean, I am a dumpy looking bitch half the time, I can't hold a candle to whatever barely legal girls are throwing themselves at you these days, not to mention there must be something in the water," Julie said, setting her book aside.

"Something in the water?"

Julie took a deep breath and pointed to her stomach, "Claire's not the only one."

"Oh my god," Ivan breathed, "You're sure? I mean, you had to take that stuff to get pregnant with Susie, this just-..."

"Yeah, I'm sure. So you add in this Helix thing, and that's three 'babies' all at once."

Ivan pulled at her hand, getting her from the chair to his lap, holding her tightly, "I know you're still pissed at me, but I'm really happy."

"You've got a flight, remember? Some friend to drag out of the gutter."

"Can you give me two minutes to be happy about this before throwing that in my face, please?"

Julie rolled her eyes and held still as his hand settled on her stomach, "I guess staying is out of the question."

"Don't ask me to give up on her when I haven't even tried yet," Ivan pleaded, reaching for her face, "You know I hate it when you tear yourself down, right?"

Julie shrugged.

"I love you. And we had a deal, you don't compare yourself to other women, and I don't write love songs about your butt. You are my idea of gorgeous and everybody else can go fuck themselves."

Julie attempted to scoffed to cover a chuckle, "Stop it. Don't make me laugh when I'm mad at you."

"Don't be mad at me, and I won't make you laugh... If you need anything, you're gonna rope somebody in to help, right? Your aunt and uncle?"

Julie's expression settled unhappily, "Yeah, well, I'm going to have to, the asshole I married is busy saving lives, which isn't part of his job description."

Ivan shifted uncomfortably as he felt torn by leaving, but he was certain that breaking his promise to Lila wasn't going to magically fix anything with Julie. He cooperated as she moved back to the chair, setting his hand on her knee, "Are you going to kiss me before I go?"

"Am I going to regret it if I don't?"

He drew a deeper breath, letting it out his nose, "I know that last couple of tours were rough, but-... Julie, if-"

"I don't want to talk about it, or how you've got another kid coming that you can ignore, okay? I'm just hoping right now that it's the hormones."

"If it's not, would you tell me?" Ivan asked, "Or are we just going to pretend that everything is fine until we're in private, and then we're at each other's throats, and not in a fun way?"

Julie shrugged, "All I'm going to say is, I hope you come back... And I don't mean from your trip, I mean all the way back, because I'm seeing less of you, the you I fell for, every time it gets this bad."

He tightened his hand on her knee as he stood, pausing to kiss her, and then made for where he'd left his suitcase by the door.

* * *


	42. Chapter 42

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: This is going to be a bit long... And verbally violent, with threats.
> 
> This is coming along fast, I'm almost surprised, except that this is pretty close to the chapter a day I was knocking out for a good long while.
> 
> If you're really bored, count the scifi references.
> 
> Love you all! Thanks for reading! FW)

* * *

** Three Weeks Later **

* * *

"You would not believe this crap," Alfie's voice came through the phone into Claire's ear, "I mean, logistically, everything is going great, Kevin slapped Ivan on the ass at the gallery, but he still played for a bit. But I don't know if Naomi's just being a bitch or what, she only booked one room for me and Kevin."

Claire chuckled, "Oh my god... Did he tell Margaret?"

"He doesn't want to wake her up. Meanwhile, he's got Ivan's room number and keeps calling him to compare soaps and stuff, I may have to kick him out onto the balcony."

"You could just go to the desk and get him another room," Claire suggested.

"Um, this place requires some really advanced notice. Like, months. They don't have another room to put him in."

Claire shifted slightly, "You could always shove him into a drawer or make him sleep in the bathtub."

Alfie chuckled, and she was sure she heard Kevin's voice asking about removing lampshades and putting them back on the lamps upside down, "I might have to if he doesn't shut up. Pretty sure Ivan unplugged his phone, now Kev's asking me for his cell."

"Okay, well, good luck keeping him busy," Claire answered, "What time does your flight get in tomorrow?"

Alfie let out a long-suffering sigh as Kevin suggested the room ought to have had more religious texts than just the bible in the nightstand, "Would you sit the fuck down? It's two in the morning!... Claire, how're you feeling?"

"Me? I'm good. Dean got a head's up that the Yugo is coming in tomorrow, so he'll be handling that in town so she doesn't have to drive as far, Lucas and Xander will be holding down the fort out here, and then you've got a couple of days before the weekend to rest up before we start moving everything, getting the big house-switch in gear," Claire said quietly.

"Yeah, hang on," Alfie said quickly. She heard a bit of a scuffle, "Stay the hell out of my suitcase. Yeah, I don't care, I'll call Margaret. No, I don't want to watch pay-per-!... Oh. Yeah, I'd watch it... Okay, um, are you taking it easy?"

"You've been gone three days, and nothing weird has happened. Melody and I are fine, and Xander took her to that puppet show at the library yesterday so I got a couple hours of sleep in the middle of the day, so I'm great."

"Any, um... you know, since, you know?" Alfie asked. She could hear Kevin objecting that there was no way to be subtle when he could easily guess what they were discussing, and Alfie loudly hushing him.

"You need a tranq dart for him... Anyway, no, no bleeding since we messed around the other day, just a couple traces of it. And I'm still feeling really comfortable, if you wanted to know."

Alfie made the sound she was used to hearing when he had reason to squirm, "Sorry I can't ask you any specific stuff right now, since present company-"

The phone cracked as it was tugged from his hand, "Claire-bear, sweetie, how are you feeling?"

"Are you really doing this right now? I'm trying to talk to my husband."

"Yeah, well, you're married to my man, so you're basically my wife-by-proxy. I mean, I count you as part of the harem," Kevin rambled. 

"What the fuck are you on about?" Claire asked with the utmost patience.

"Samandriel, Margaret, and you. When I become the Czar of Eastern Nebraska-"

"I'm not moving to Nebraska."

"I'm going to keep you three around in my private chambers. Everybody thinks it's going to be one big orgy in there, but really, we'll probably just hang out all day."

"Why are you this hyper right now?" Claire asked. 

"I stopped all caffeine consumption at four point seven weeks ago, trying to see if I'd be healthier, and then I got these chocolate covered espresso beans at the candy store. Pretty sure I'll be kicking him all night. But enough about that, did you guys go against doctor's orders?"

"None of your business, Kev."

Kevin gave an exaggerated sounds of dismissal, "Everything is my business. I'm the Kwisatz Haderach."

"I don't give a shit, Muad'dib. Put Alfie back on."

"Hey," Kevin said, the sound of his voice hitting faintly enough that Claire could tell it wasn't directed at her, "Listen, man, right now, your dick could put her in the hospital, so you guys knock that shit off."

Claire rolled her eyes as she heard Alfie take the phone back from him, and asked before Alfie could speak, "If you explain it to him, will he shut up before the whole hotel hears it?"

"Maybe, but I was trying to hold onto some kind of boundary here," Alfie replied. 

Claire scoffed, "Like you two had any to start with."

"I made a few when you came along, that has to count," Alfie insisted.

"Not if she broke them down herself," she heard Kevin answer, "Hell, how long have you had that super private naked fire picture hanging up in your living room? Freaking sac-tapped me over a crayon drawing. I mean, a hot crayon drawing, but still. And then when your kid was born? Saw some stuff, man."

"Hey," Claire said, trying to get Alfie's attention, "I gotta get some sleep, tell him whatever you want to shut him up, but I need off the phone."

"Yeah, okay," Alfie answered, "I love you, I'll see you tomorrow."

Kevin raised his voice, addressing the phone, "Love you, proxy-wife! Get some sleep."

As the call ended, she was sure she heard Alfie mention applying duct tape to his friend.

* * *

Dean had the new shop own an hour ahead of schedule as he'd promised Mrs Larson for dropping off her car, as it was the only time her daughter could give her a ride home before work. 

Randy was slated to open, as Claire's reduced hours had her coming in later, and with Alfie preoccupied, Melody was being passed around between other familial adults as often as was practical. She'd spent half a day at the school with Cas a few days before, and would be dropped off with Ben on Claire's way into town as his two classes were both early. 

He had to admit Randy had had a point the year before, they had no shortage of customers to fill the space at the new location without taking much strain off the old one, but while the two new mechanics were getting their bearings, scheduling and clerical work were falling behind. 

Dean was deep in thought, having diagnosed the obscene, obsolete pile of foreign crap from a country that didn't even exist anymore, wondering how much secretary work he'd have to do, chained to a desk once he was done with this particular vehicle. He wasn't looking forward to it at all. 

The front door opened smoothly, unnoticeable but for the hanging bell that chimed. Expecting Randy, he didn't bother to acknowledge it until a familiar form appeared at the edge of the garage, "Hi, Dean."

"What did you do to your car?" Dean asked.

"Nothing, it's fine," Margaret answered.

"If you're looking for Claire, she's gonna be a few hours."

Margaret shook her head as Dean approached the tall toolbox close to her, taking a socket off a small rack and checking it for size on a grimy bolt he held, "Actually, I was looking for you. My department at the city offices merged with county since the newer growth has been outside the city limits, and I was let go, so... Claire said you might have a space for me? I just can't go back to working for the shelter."

"Desk jockey stuff? Phones, computer, paperwork?" Dean asked. 

Margaret shrugged, "Well, I'm not much good in the garage, so, yeah."

Dean glanced upward, mouthing a quick 'thank you,' and turned back to her with a nod, "Yeah, you can have your old job back. But you'll be working the main line for both locations, we'll have parts we need moved from the yard to out here, you might need to run them back and forth, and it's going to be a little more crazy than it was."

"Then it's probably a good thing I've only gotten better at keeping a lid on crazy. When can I start?"

"When I fill out the forms, so, tomorrow? I have to get this done, but get with Claire, and- wait, how much were you making with the city?" Dean asked.

"Nine-fifty an hour."

Dean scoffed, "You should have come back sooner."

* * *

"How'd it go for her, anyway?" Alfie asked, taking a seat next to Ivan where they waited with Kevin for Claire's car.

"Well, I spent about two and a half weeks out there going back and forth between chicken broth, holding her hair back, pushing water, and convincing her to try to sleep, and in between checking she was still breathing, I got a couple new tunes jotted down, and then, when she was doing better, her mom came out to see her... She wanted her to take over, but she wouldn't do it."

Kevin leaned forward to look at him, "Why wouldn't her mom be there from the start?"

"Because she was there from the start the first couple of tries, and she didn't have it in her to go through it again just to see her kid run right back to it. Sometimes you just can't, you know?"

Kevin sat back on the bench, "Hey, how old is she, anyway?"

"Uh, twenty-four, twenty-five, I guess?" Ivan replied, "Why?"

"Just that, if she's already having this kind of thing going on, twenty-seven isn't looking so good," Kevin answered, "You know that whole thing about famous people who kick it at twenty-seven? Jimi Hendrix, Kurt Cobaine, Amy Winehouse... Old enough to have a good catalogue of stuff, young enough that it's still tragic. Almost always has drugs involved."

"That's a thing?" Ivan asked.

"You never heard of it?" Kevin said, leaning forward again, "Yeah, a lot of people chalk it up to coincidence and superstition, sometimes it's part of conspiracy theories, but look it up online sometime, it's crazy."

Ivan pulled out his phone to start searching, but Alfie was already getting to his feet, "There's Claire."

The Oldsmobile, less one car seat, which had been left with Ben, swung up to the curb as the three men arranged the suitcase and carry-ons in the trunk before piling in, Alfie climbing into the passenger seat and greeting Claire with a kiss.

"I have to get to the new place and get some stuff done, do you want me to drop you off at home?" Claire asked.

"No, I'll follow you around and find something to do," Alfie assured her.

Kevin checked his phone as the car pulled away from the curb, "Hey, tell Dean thanks for me when you see him. Margaret says he's giving her back her old job with a raise."

Ivan scrolled along the screen currently open on his phone, concern growing on his face, muttering and shaking his head.

"Dude," Kevin said quietly, "Chill out, it's not a huge thing, it's probably related to addictions and metabolisms slowing down around that time. Lila's probably going to be fine. I mean, Claire's disgusting excuse for a mother is still alive, as far as I know."

Claire glanced into the rear view mirror at Kevin, "What the hell is it this time, Atreides?"

"Ivan went to L.A. to detox and rehab his little friend under the radar, and I told him about the twenty-seven club," Kevin answered.

Alfie rolled his eyes, "Yeah, way to go on that, like he doesn't have enough to worry about."

"How is it I've never heard of this?" Ivan asked, "This is insane."

"Don't listen to him," Claire replied, "I'm sure whatever is going on with her has nothing to do with it."

* * *

It didn't take long to finish the Yugo, and Dean was determined to be rid of it as fast as possible. Knowing it was only five blocks away, he'd had Randy follow him over to drop it off and get it out of his sight as quickly as possible.

The elderly woman had thanked him profusely and supplied him with a large, golden brown pie, the top crust of which was sugared. Despite the usual cookies being incredibly dry, he had high hopes for the still-warm baked good.

There was still much to be done, and Dean shut himself into the larger, more comfortable office with a disposable fork, the pie, and a good deal of paperwork. After losing track of time, however, he noticed Claire's voice coming through from the waiting area, asking about intake, questioning Dean's decision on delivering the Yugo, and finally, "...And what the hell is that smell?"

He considered the intensity of Claire's cravings while pregnant with Melody, and it crossed his mind that perhaps he shouldn't have dug into it quite so quickly, as he didn't have the recipe to replace it, and he was not about to attempt to get between a pregnant woman and food.

The office door swung open, and Claire looked slightly green around the edges, "Do we deliver cars, now?"

"No ma'am. Not unless they're for nearly house-bound seniors who bribe me."

"What the hell is that?" Claire asked, pointing to the shamelessly decimated remains in the dish before him.

"Caramel apple pie," Dean said quietly with an air of caution.

Choking down a dry wretch, a clear sign of morning sickness, Claire shook her head, "Take it outside. Until the kid pops, nobody brings food into my office but me."

* * *

Having been ejected, pie and all, Dean started for the original location before realizing he wasn't needed there, either. Resolving to stay available by phone, he went home instead. His plan had been to start dinner and continue packing things and leaving them in the garage to make the move faster, but he'd barely cleaned up after tossing everything into the crock pot when a knock interrupted his day.

Dean looked somewhat confused at the woman who stood on the porch as he opened the front door, "Can I help you?"

"I'm looking for Castiel Novak, does he still live here?" she asked.

The stringy dark blonde hair and gritting voice were familiar, but he was still having trouble placing her. She was skin and bones, and her sweater didn't fit the warmth of the day.

"Yeah, that's my husband. He's not home."

She nodded, and gave a small shrug, "I just... I need to get a message to my daughter. Maybe you can help me."

Amelia. Dean was sure of it, even from the brief time he'd seen her, and his blood ran cold.

"Is that right?" Dean growled.

"Look, whatever you've heard, there's a lot of lies about me, a lot of things blown out of proportion, just... I need a kidney transplant. Claire could be a good match, and I don't have a lot of time, it's bad, really-"

"No." Dean snapped, "No, Claire is pregnant, and she's going to want to breastfeed just like the first one, and she doesn't need any operations right now. So, probably the only time I can use this and really mean it, but, 'Fuck off and die.' Okay?"

Dean started to close the door, but the waifish woman pressed against it hard, "Please! Look, if you'll talk to her, make her think about it, please! I can make it worth your time."

Dean rolled his eyes as Amelia shoved her way in through the door, barely inside before turning around. He closed the door quietly with a look of intense irritation, "You said she's pregnant? And she already had a baby a couple of years ago, right? I found pictures online... I don't want to die, but, more than that, if... if I have to die, I want to meet my granddaughter. Please, I'd do just about anything right now, I'm desperate."

Dean scoffed, "You came to the right person, at least."

"You'll help me?" Amelia asked, her voice filling with hope.

Dean gave a careful shake of his head, grateful for the empty house, stepping closer to her, "No. Never... But I'll tell it like it is... She's not your daughter. Not anymore. She's my daughter. You don't need to understand that, just accept it as fact. And that little girl she had? That's my grandchild, and if you get anywhere near either one of them after this little conversation, I'm gonna make the punishment fit the crime."

Amelia looked up at him in surprise, "You're threatening me?"

"Who's gonna believe it? It's the word of an addict who sold her daughter over the word of a school principal's husband who fixes little old ladies' cars for cookies or a pie, a stand-up business owner who contributes to the community. But the better question - who's gonna care if you go missing? It's not like they'd ever find the body," thoughts of Melody, and a memory of Claire struggling to get Cas to release her arm that night in the rain, too cold and exhausted to understand and unable to do anything but fight went through his mind. He'd gone through too much to help Claire overcome her very warranted fears, and there was no way he was going to stand by and risk tiny little Melody's safety at the hands of the same abuser, "You get anywhere near my girls, you look at them, I'm going to blind you, speak to them, I'll cut out your tongue, get them to talk to you, use something long and sharp to carve out your inner ears. Any kind of physical contact and your hands are gone... I've had years to think about it... Years. Cas doesn't need me as much as he thinks he does, and I sure as hell don't mind going to prison... Not with the shit you deserve."

"I made a mistake, okay?" Amelia said, her voice cracking, breaking into small sobs, "She's no better than me, she should learn to forgive-"

"Don't you dare try that crap on me. Claire would never let anybody near her kids, she's not like you at all! She protects the people she loves, she doesn't use them. And she sure as hell wouldn't let some sick bastard rape her child! She deserves a hell of a lot better than you!"

If there was a way to whimper through body language, Amelia managed it, looking anxiously toward the door.

"So," Dean asked, stepping intimidatingly close, "Are you going to take it upon yourself to disappear, or do you want some help with that?"

"I'm dying, okay? I didn't want to-"

"Yeah, well, karma's a bitch. I hope you die screaming in pain. Get the fuck out of my house!" Dean finished in a roar.

Amelia scurried out the front door as Dean slammed it shut behind her, his only regret that she moved too fast for him to 'accidentally' catch her on the back of the heel with it.

* * *

"Okay, let's try again, I don't think you're understanding me," Ben said gently, leading Melody back to the corner, steering her into it face-first with a hand on her tiny back, "You count to twenty, and only after you count, you go look for the other person. Okay? Helps if you cover your eyes."

He was surprised, as she'd chased after him, that she had almost all the numbers accounted for, even if a few came out garbled, such as 'fuffteen, fupteen, sipteen,' but it was close enough for twenty. If he could get her to stay put, he knew she'd have the game down quickly enough.

Melody cupped her hands over her eyes and began to count, but half way to the kitchen to crouch behind a counter, his phone alerted him to a text message. Checking it quickly, hoping to get on with the game, he froze. He barely had time to run a hand over his face before the inevitable phone call.

* * *

"Mr Novak? There's a parent here to see you, she's very upset, she says it's an emergency."

Cas looked up from behind his desk and set the report he was going over aside, "Of course."

He straightened up, pulling a pen and notepad out, ready to take notes if required, but the woman who entered the room was far too familiar. The moment the door closed behind her, she moved to sit down across the desk from him.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Cas asked tersely.

"You weren't home. Your husband said you were a principal now, it didn't take long to find out where," Amelia replied, "Also, he threatened my life, which is ending soon, anyway. All I wanted to do was pass a message on to Claire, see if she'd consider giving me a kidney, maybe meet her daug-"

"Get out."

"He said that, too. After he mentioned carving out my inner ears and blinding me. He's a sick sack of shit, you really do have a type."

"I am not interested. Stay away from Claire, and stay away from her child. It'll prolong your life."

"She doesn't have to know!" Amelia protested, "You could bring her little girl out to meet me someplace, use a fake name for me, just let me see her, take a few pictures, and I'll go! Cas, I am the mother of your child, goddamn it! You owe me!"

Cas gave her an irritated scowl and spoke gently, further infuriating her that he wouldn't match her raised voice, "According to state income guidelines and my bank records, I overpaid anything that I owed you. Meanwhile, having seen the state of her living conditions, the nearly emaciated state she was in, I'm sure she was seeing less than half of it. I could have demanded support from you after she moved here, and I didn't. You may leave me any assets you have, if you want to balance that particular checkbook."

"You wanted me to give her up, remember?"

Cas shrugged, his expression free of guilt, "I love my daughter. I can't imagine my life without her. I couldn't be prouder. Every book thrown at my head, every punch to the face, broken lamp, night terror, screaming fit, and every second of worry has been worth having her with me. But if I could go back in time, get her away from you, I would do it, at any cost."

Amelia gave him a sour look, "Is that right? Follow me home the day I told you, and stomp the hell out of my uterus?"

" _Any_ cost." Cas stressed in reiteration, "She has suffered enough."

"What about my suffering? I gave birth to her, and you just kidnapped her, stole her away from me, and poisoned her mind! You are the reason she won't-"

"You dug your own grave, Amelia. By all means, hop in."

Amelia stared at him as her jaw hung open, "How dare you! All the sleepless nights, diaper changes, every bottle, every shot, every CPS visit, where the fuck were you? Huh? Living the good life with some boytoy-"

"I would have taken every sleepless night. I would have taken the rest of it, too. You are the one who took her from me-" Cas said, his voice quickly growing louder.

"She was my baby, I gave birth to her, I love her! And you ruined it!"

"Love precludes orchestrating the rape of a fourteen-year-old, twice! You are an unfeeling, selfish hag!" Cas answered, finally reaching full volume as he stood, leaning over the desk. 

A small motion in the corner of the room caused Cas to look up, only to find Xander standing in the doorway with a startled look, but he quickly recovered, stepped inside, and closed the door behind himself, leaning back against it, "Who's this, Pops?"

"No one. What are you doing here?" Cas asked softly, pulling himself into check.

"Slow day, took off early, wanted to see if you wanted to grab a late lunch... Didn't realize Claire's mother was in town."

The vitriol that burdened the word 'mother' couldn't have been more toxic as Xander spoke it.

Cas shook his head, "Xander, please wait outside, this is private."

Xander shrugged, "Seems like a family thing. I mean, that is my sister you're talking about."

Cas appeared to be gathering his thoughts as Amelia sized up Xander. Despite being the runt of his group in middle school, he'd grown taller than Dean, and the years of sports Dean had coaxed out of the boy in an effort to build his confidence and sense of achievement had left him quite muscular.

"Where did you steal this one from? He looks nothing like you, or your husband," Amelia commented.

"The stork brought me," Xander replied arrogantly, starting a text on his phone.

Amelia rolled her eyes and turned back to Cas, "I don't have time for this. I'm going through hell, I just want to live, and if I can't do that, then I want to meet my granddaughter before I die. Claire doesn't have to know I'm even in town."

"She already does, though," Xander piped up behind her as Cas' phone chirped on the desk. The group message was visible on the screen, in plain sight for both Cas and Amelia, 'Claires moms in town who wants a turn' followed by an emoji of a red boxing glove.

"Xander, please-"

"So it's not enough that your husband threatened me, saying they'd never find my body, now your son is threatening violence as well?" Amelia asked, her arm swinging toward Xander.

"Pops, I love you, but if you take Mel around this bitchy rape-skank, I will never forgive you. Nobody would."

"I would never do that," Cas assured him.

Amelia turned around, "'Bitchy rape-skank?' You have no idea, you little asshole, because let me tell you-"

Xander drew himself up to his full height, broad shoulders back, an intimidating stance he'd picked up from Dean, "Stop me when I'm wrong! But no, actually, I have always wanted to know, and I can't really ask anyone else your motive on this, so I'm almost glad you're here, why her? I mean, why would you put her through that? Why let somebody force himself on her? Wouldn't it have been easier to spread your own legs, you fucking monster? I mean, did he just have a thing for children, or were you already just that dried up and ugly by that time?"

By this point, Amelia's seething seemed to have steam coming from her ears.

"You can't stand here and judge me like this when you've never been in my shoes," Amelia started, stammering as she tried to piece her raging thoughts into a coherent sentence.

"I guess not. But I'll tell you what I can do, I can call up some buddies of mine, tell them to leave the lube at home and find out how you like it, getting the same treatment. Twice, right? You know, they say the bad shit you do comes back on you sevenfold. Or comes on your back sevenfold, I'm not really sure. But twice, seven, so, fourteen... Which is how old she was, how's that for a coincidence?"

Amelia stood up slowly, shouldering her purse in a delicate manner before approaching the door Xander was blocking, "Please move out of my way, I'm leaving."

"So soon? Oh, well, let me get the door for you, I'd hate to snap you like a twig _on accident._ "

He pulled the door open so fast it was nearly violent, stepping further away to give her a very wide berth. It wasn't until he'd closed the door and turned around that he saw the horrified look on Cas' face. After collecting himself, Cas pointed to one of the chairs before him.

With a sidelong glance anywhere but Cas' face, Xander sheepishly took a seat.

"Xander," Cas spoke softly, his voice barely more than a whisper, as he eased himself back into his seat, "That was... Uncalled for."

"Bullshit. What she did to Claire was uncalled for."

"You're worrying me."

"I wouldn't. Not really, c'mon, you know that."

"Do I? Or, do I know you wouldn't call someone who'd be willing to? I'm not really sure how much you understand, given your orientation."

Xander shrugged, "You don't ask about it, neither does Dad. Ben is really the only one who's not scared to talk about it, but he doesn't really care."

"You threatened a dying woman old enough to be your mother with gang rape. That's alarming, to say the least."

"Is it really, though? It's not just anyone, it's _her._ "

"The fact that your mind even went there begs several questions."

Xander spread his hands wide, signaling Cas to ask. When, after a moment, Cas hadn't, he said "Fine, I'll start. I get with girls sometimes. Mostly, it's all them, but only if they're a really good friend, like, really close, they get where I'm coming from, and if they're completely cool with it, and easy going, don't push for anything."

"Solely for their benefit?"

"No. I mean, parts of it are just gross, I try to keep my mind off it, but, there's like," Xander shrugged, "I don't know, it's like a closeness you can't get with pants on."

"Intimacy?"

"Yeah, that. That part's good."

Cas leaned back in his chair, "And that's worth putting yourself through the parts you find disgusting?"

"Depends on who it is. But on the other side of things, I've been told I make things a lot more comfortable because I'm really low on expectations with no agenda, kind of got me a reputation."

Cas nodded, "Well, that certainly clears up a few things... Your dad and I worry sometimes that you'll end up alone, especially if that's not what you want. I suppose you know what you're doing, and we certainly aren't in any place to guide you in this... Now, about Amelia-"

"It's a scary threat. Just putting the idea into her head, you know? If she doesn't sleep tonight, if it gets her to leave Claire alone, then, good. She deserves that kind of fear, after what she did."

Cas leaned his elbows on the desk, "Xander, I am... I am not a religious man, far from it, but there has to be a line, a line you don't cross, because once you do something horrible, the memory of that action lasts, like a stain on the soul. I've known a lot of people over the course of my life, and those that cross that line, even once, well,-"

"You think there's a turning point? Where someone can go so bad that they can't come back from it?"

Cas' words slowed, as he seemed to pick them carefully, "I... would hope that was not true. But in every person I've known, either they genuinely mean well and avoid crossing that line, or they willingly cause pain and suffering without remorse. But this is one area where, were you to rob Peter to pay Paul, cause suffering for Amelia in seeking justice for Claire, you'd be damaging yourself in the process.

"Claire had the opportunity to try to have her mother incarcerated. I was very clear with her that I would stand by her every step of the way, and she made her decision. She decided to put it behind her. Claire deserves to have that decision respected, and that trumps anything you or I might wish on her behalf."

"Like the guy with the phone," Xander said, putting his fingertip to the faint scar below his lip.

"Exactly."

Xander glanced over his shoulder at the door, "Think she's gone, yet? I still kind of want to get lunch."

"Probably."

Cas gathered his things as Xander started for the door, "If we run into her in the parking lot, I'm not apologizing."

"I wouldn't ask you to, not after the look on her face."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N2: Yes, it's Dune, by Frank Herbert. I liked all the movies including the crappy ones because I'm cinematically easy.)


	43. Chapter 43

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: I think we're about due for something graphic...)

* * *

"She's right here, I've got eyes on her, and I'm the only other person here," Ben answered into the phone, "No, just,-... Yeah... It's me, Claire. I'm not about to let anybody in until you get here. Never mind the fact that your mom probably doesn't know I even exist, much less where I live, so-... You're letting Alfie drive, right? You're not driving like this?... Don't yell at me, I'm just asking."

Melody climbed up the couch, pretending to fly the paper airplane he'd folded for her, as most children did in an hours-long state of constant play.

"Look, I hear a car in the driveway, is that you?" Ben asked, steadying Melody's uneven steps on the soft surface of the couch, "Okay, since you're confirming it, I'll go unlock the door you just told me to lock, but just remember, okay? If you come in here freaking out, you risk scaring her, so see if you can avoid that?"

Ben went to the door and unlocked it as he heard the car outside stop it's engine while Claire, in agreement with him, got off the phone with the intention of calming herself before heading inside.

"You mom and dad are back, they'll be in in just a sec," Ben informed the child, watching carefully and spreading his hands as she scrambled onto the back of the couch to launch herself toward him. He caught her easily, tucking her into an upside down carry, and went to the kitchen, "You want that popsicle now?"

"Yeah!" Melody replied loudly.

When the door finally opened, Ben regretted providing his niece with the frozen mess-maker, as Claire looked completely drained and red around the eyes, not up to cleaning up the goofy, messy child. Alfie, unfazed by the stickiness, accepted her excited hug without pause, picking her up right away, but as he turned to Ben, it was obvious he was concerned as well.

"Hey," Alfie said quietly as Claire shakily took a seat, "Did she eat a real lunch already?"

"Yeah, I had some leftovers, so I fixed her a mishmash."

"What's a mishmash?" Alfie asked.

"Uh, something my mom used to do, mix meat and vegetables on a plate, put cheese on top and put it in the microwave. It counts as real food," Ben explained, "Claire? ...Hey? You, um... Pops made me stock the kitchen, you want something? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Claire looked as if she had something to say, but gave Melody an odd look, and kept silent.

Bouncing Melody slightly, Alfie patted the back of the couch, "Come on, you probably need to lay down, you were already overdoing it before you got that text."

Claire carefully moved to lay on the couch, her hands still shaking as she went, while Melody got Alfie's attention and informed him she needed a pet iguana as she'd seen in one of Ben's books.

Ben circled the couch to get a better look at Claire's face, passing her a throw pillow, and realized how weak she looked, "I don't remember you having it this rough with Mel, what have you been doing this morning? Bench-pressing cars by the axle?"

Claire gave him a confused look, "Nobody told you?"

"Told me what? About you being pregnant?"

With a surprised chuckle, Claire replied, "Well, at least not everybody is up in my business... I'm high risk this time."

"Yeah? With what?"

"Um, spontaneous blood loss, for now. Could get worse."

"Oh... Okay, well," Ben shrugged, "Like I was saying on the phone, there's no way to track you guys here as long as Xander and everybody keep their mouths shut. The weird thing is, how does he even even know it was her?"

"Cas sent me a text right after Xander did," Alfie replied, "He was there, and I'm pretty sure he knows what she looks like."

"It wouldn't take much to fix up the other rooms if you guys want to hide out here," Ben offered.

"We're supposed to move in a couple of days," Claire sounded unhappy with the prospect, "I still have a bunch to pack."

Alfie shrugged, "Maybe we should give it another week, in case she tries to show up at your dad's, in which case, we wouldn't want to be there."

"I think we're okay at our place, though, I doubt she'd look that far into it," Claire said quietly, "Maybe she'll leave."

"Well, you can't punch Dad to get out of seeing her this time," Ben mused, "I vote we stick you in the guest room and Alfie can run home and get you guys some stuff. She can't possibly connect you with some guy she's never seen going into Bobby's old place."

Claire shook her head, "I have work, we're moving, and I want to go home. I think I was right last time, standing up to her, I just, I don't know."

"You can't spend a night in jail like this," Ben said quietly.

"She's small enough to fit in Dean's trunk," Claire answered, "Alfie, you'll stuff her in there for me, right?"

* * *

With a little advance warning, Dean was ready when the car pulled onto the gravel road. He pulled the Singer tow truck out of the first driveway, blocking the gravel road completely. Climbing down from the truck, he found Cas close by.

He stopped in his tracks, comfortable in the knowledge that further off, Melody was climbing the steps to the door Alfie had just unlocked before going back to the car to help Claire into the house.

Cas noticed as well, and turned back to see Dean shrug, "Locking down the family compound for the night."

"Lets hope we don't need any emergency vehicles," Cas answered, clearly unenthused.

"Less likely to need them if she's not stressed out."

"She's already stressed out. I'm fairly certain she was born stressed," Cas replied, "They should have stayed at Ben's."

"Nah, let her sleep in her own bed, she's got it bad enough as it is."

"Do you think Alfie needs any help?"

"Ben said he had dinner delivered, so, probably not. Sounded like he ran Melody around well enough that she'll sleep."

"Maybe we should ask, at least," Cas suggested quietly.

"Text him," Dean answered, "But don't go over there and rile things up, that's the opposite of helping. Besides, much longer and dinner's gonna dry out."

Resigned, Cas followed after him, texting as he went.

* * *

"How was the, um... The thing?" Julie asked in a flattened, quiet tone.

"It would have been nicer if you'd gone with me," Ivan said quietly. It was clear that he had more interest in her than she had in him at that point, but there was also a one-sided sadness as well, "I kept hoping to talk to you, but you kept passing the phone off to the girls... I missed you more than ever."

"Were there a lot of people?" Julie asked, ignoring his sentiments.

"Yeah. I signed a ton of books. That asshole turned me into a mature author-guy who writes poetry instead of bitching about life into a microphone over a guitar," Ivan attempted to get a chuckle from her, but it wasn't working, "Did you read any of it?"

"A couple. I picked out one that mentioned a lot of colors and red it to the girls."

The bedroom was dark, and Julie was beginning to fall asleep. He'd kicked off his boots and stretch out on top of the covers in an attempt to be close to her after putting the girls to bed, but either she was exhausted, or her apathy was too great to pretend she cared.

Ivan shifted onto his side to look her in the eye, when they'd stay open, "I'm sorry I screwed up the summer... There's still time, though, if you want to plan anything fun-"

"I quit my job a week ago."

"Did... Did you want to, or is that my fault?" Ivan asked.

"Well, I didn't want to," Julie said simply, "Now the girls have me all day, and I can nap when I can, so, maybe it'll be easier this way."

"And you're stuck here with me?" Ivan asked, pain building in his throat.

"I'll just get a new job when the baby starts daycare."

Ivan took her hand, recognizing her avoidance of the question, "Was this easier for you when we had to scrape by? Was that the version of me you said you missed? Is that what you want back?"

"Can we talk about it in the morning?" Julie whispered.

"Yeah," Ivan replied, perfectly aware that when the morning came, the girls would wake before they did, and no conversation would actually occur. But Julie had just cared for them by herself for three weeks straight, and whatever strain was between them, he was determined to let her rest.

* * *

The very basic but balanced, low sodium meal was nearly done when Dean stood from the table suddenly, pulling a bottle of red wine from the fridge, "I almost forgot."

Cas gave a look of distaste, "Dean, you know I hate-"

"Yeah, well, too bad. She's eating for two, so you're drinking for three. This way, everybody's gonna stay healthy," Dean answered, refusing to hear an argument. He set the bottle down and turned to find a wine glass.

"I will if you will," Cas replied dryly, eliciting a grumpy look from Dean.

He looked down at the corkscrew in his hand and shrugged, masculinity causing him to abandon the quest for delicate, curved glasses, "Well, in that case, we're gonna total the bottle."

Cas steadied the wine bottle as he wrestled the cork out before taking a swig, "Still rather have the good stuff," Dean muttered.

"If I have to, I don't see why you should be exempt," Cas replied, picking it up, "What's good for the... well, gander, is good for the gander."

"You know what's great about moving over there?" Dean asked, relaxing back into his chair and picking at what was left on his plate as Cas took a couple of disinterested chugs of the mild and altogether unwanted wine.

"Hm?"

"There's noise... This place is too quiet, you don't let doors creak, no squeaky floorboards, no mystery noises houses are supposed to make. This place gets empty and if you're the only one here, it's like a freaking tomb. It's creepy."

Cas shrugged as he set the bottle down, "You're criticizing the fact that I've kept this place in good repair?"

"I keep my car in good repair," Dean answered, picking up the bottle for another go, "You manicure this house."

"And now, as I'd hoped, I'm passing it on with no major issues for Claire to have to worry about. She and her children, and Alfie, they can have a comfortable life here. I'm very satisfied with that. Ben's very well set up, considering he's not out of college yet, that really just leaves Xander to worry about."

"Xander's getting Bobby's place," Dean said quietly.

The house went still as both silently acknowledged the inevitable before casting it aside. Cas took another drink as Dean snagged the last vegetable from his plate before setting the fork down.

"Amelia came to the house today," Dean said quietly.

Cas tensed, "She told me. Right before she came to the school, by the sound of it. But you probably got Xander's text."

"Even Blake got Xander's text, he just didn't know why it mattered," Dean shook his head and reached for the bottle, "She's dying... Maybe."

"Wants to ask Claire for a kidney, and meet Melody. I'm sure she told you the same."

"Not happening."

"Right... She asked me to take Melody to see her without telling Claire... Then I saw a completely different side of Xander today. Two sides, really."

Dean looked up as he set the bottle down, "How's that?"

"He threatened to have her raped. Fourteen times, if I'm not mistaken. He was specific about it being without lube."

"...He said that?" worry played on Dean's brow as he asked the question.

"What did you say to her? She said you threatened her." Cas asked, shifting his chair further from the table.

"I might have made some promises," Dean replied, "If I was gonna do anything, though, I'd have chained her up in the garage right now. She never would have gotten to the school."

"He called her a... A 'bitchy rape-skank.' It's fitting, I suppose. She left, hopefully for good, then I tried to talk to him about the threat he made, I wasn't sure how well he'd understand it, exactly, but he did... He also told me he's sexually active."

"I thought he wasn't into that?"

"He's not. He said he finds it unpleasant, but worthwhile for intimacy, depending on the partner... It also sounds as though he's very discriminating about the qualities of those partners, everything sounded, well, right. It sounds healthy."

"You tell him to wrap it?"

"I'm sure he knows," Cas answered, tilting the bottle to check where the level of fluid sat, "It seems we're only half done."

Dean stood, gathering their plates in one hand before taking another deep drink and passing it back to Cas, "Take it upstairs, I gotta start the dishwasher."

Cas got to his feet, stealing a quick kiss before lifting the bottle by the neck and starting upstairs. Dean went about the kitchen, tidying quickly before finishing up with the few dishes, his thoughts on his very odd day and his worries on his children before turning off the last of the lights and heading upstairs.

The door was mostly shut, only slightly ajar, and the light was off. Warm, yet crisp air from outside greeted him as his entered quietly, finding Cas leaning on the low window sill as he sat on the bench below it, the open bottle developing condensation where it sat on the sill in the night air. Despite the shadows, he was perfectly aware of Cas' bare skin, and a few of his nerves pricked to see it. He paused in the doorway, considering for a moment if he ought to take a picture, but in the dark, he was sure it wouldn't turn out, and so resolved to commit the sight to memory.

Noticed lurking in the doorway, Cas lazily jerked his head toward the open window, and beyond it, the treetops, rustling in a soft breeze, the sound low as the summer leaves were soft and pliable as they shifted against each other.

Dean made his way closer, setting his elbows on the sill, looking out over the side of the back yard, "Hm... that's where you got smacked with the ladder, catching Ben, same day as Claire's prom."

He felt Cas' hand on his ribs, giving a gentle stroke, "Not exactly the worst day of my life."

"You told that kid you were going to replace his guts with a garden hose... That was the tequila, right?"

"Possibly the stress, I'm not sure," Cas said quietly, "I know that while you were handling the wound, you took my shirt off, but I can't seem to remember you actually doing it."

"Pain will blur stuff."

"I do remember kissing you later, though."

Dean smirked, "If you hadn't had so many shots, I would have stayed... Ballsy move, though, kissing a 'straight' guy who knew where you lived and's big enough to hold his own in a fight with you."

"Tequila often makes people ballsy," Cas replied as Dean turned around to sit next to him, unfastening his boot laces.

"You don't need any help in that department. You know what you want, or what's right, and you go for it. I don't-" Dean paused, as sitting up, he felt the waist of his tshirt being pulled upward, and waited for it to come over his head, "I don't always have it in me to do that."

"I would have liked it if you'd stayed," Cas said softly.

"I would have, too, but I would have been kicking my own ass for it later. It wasn't... It wouldn't have been right."

Dean rearranged his legs as Cas reached for him, kissing him gently, a more recent taste of wine on his lips as his hands started on Dean's jeans, "You could have at least kissed me back."

He pulled Cas close and kissed him more insistently, "I can make up for it, now."

"I might be willing to let you," Cas whispered against his lips before they fell into another deep kiss. Coming up for air, Cas patted Dean on the thigh, "Off with those."

Dean stood a bit too quickly, catching his balance once he was on his feet, stripping out of the rest of his clothes as Cas took another drink from the bottle, passing it to Dean as he returned to the bench. Frustrated with the seemingly endless supply of the weak stuff without the decent bite of whiskey or the bready overtones of beer, Dean drank, if only to take the level down before giving a disgusted sound and placing it back on the sill.

Hands were on his bare thighs before he had let go of the bottle, and Cas arranged Dean's legs around his waist, taking hold of his hips and pulling him closer to get him into the position he wanted before pressing Dean's chest to get him to lay back on the bench.

Dean settled his hands on Cas' thighs where he straddled the bench, as they rested against the outside of his own hips, his breathing slowing as Cas' hands slipped from his chest, down over his stomach, and back to his thighs. Cas' hands were warm, and the touch was loving and soft, slow, and relaxing.

A tiny gasp came from him as a hand suddenly gave a quick passing touch across his openly displayed genitals as he could have compared himself to a book laying open on Cas' lap, and Cas lean carefully to the side, picking up something from the shelf below them.

Curious, Dean attempted to catch a glimpse of it, but his hint of suspicion eased as a stream of slick fluid fell over him, and a second, smaller bottle was added to the window sill, the cap carefully closed while Cas' hands were suddenly all over him, making him jump. Deep breathing settled him, almost, before Cas' own hard, thick flesh was added to the mix, making Dean's erection twitch roughly.

"Is that for me?" Dean asked in a teasing whisper, giving Cas' thighs a squeeze.

Cas made a tight ring of his thumb and first finger, pressing it over the tip of Dean's hardness and sliding it down to his base slowly, providing the feeling of having penetrated something, making Dean moan, "If you want it to be."

Dean chuckled, "When do I not?"

Shifting to take them both in one hand, which it took all of Dean's self control to keep his own hands out of, Cas was soon probing at him with slick fingers, pressing in and getting a deep groan in return.

Dean wasn't expecting it when Cas' hands slipped away, scooping under his thighs to get Dean to curl his hips to an easier angle, but his entry was slow and easy as he guided Dean's body into place.

Cas gave less of a thrust and more of a gentle rocking motion into him as Dean reached for one of his hands, interlacing their fingers. He watched closely as Cas' head tipped back, taking in the shape of him, the shadows and moonlight providing Dean with more detail of his shape than bright light and touch ever did. 

Dean hit a pleasurable plateau, content to watch Cas continue to move, but Cas brought Dean's hand up next to his face, pressing soft lips to the tender skin at the inside of Dean's wrist. Eyes connected despite the lack of light as Cas ran his tongue across the veins before kissing gently a little closer to Dean's elbow. A burning welled up in Dean, anticipating Cas' next move, though how he could see the freckle he used for a waypoint in the darkness, Dean would never know.

Teeth sank into Dean's flesh in a firm grip of a bite, and Dean squirmed against the mild pain, altering Cas' angle just enough to break his mild high and make him desperate.

As soon as his flesh was clear of Cas' teeth, Dean pulled their hands toward him, begging, "Please? ...God, Cas, I need it!"

Cas leaned in over Dean's chest with an authoritative shake of his head, "I am not about to slap you when you're this close, I know better... Get up and turn around."

With trembling limbs, surprised at how quickly the activity had changed so drastically, Dean made a shaky, uncoordinated spin in place, ready for Cas' next instructions. Warm arms encircled his chest, and he could have melted back against Cas, but he was patient. A warm voice rasped against his hair, "Still need it?"

Dean nodded, "Yeah."

It was light, just enough force and contact to sting as Cas' hand struck him across the cheek, causing a startled moan.

"Better?"

Dean nodded, still breathing heavily, and with affection, Cas guided him to straddle the bench as he did, leaning forward.

He let go a strangled whimper as Cas' hands slid a thick, textured, and absolutely deliciously warm silicone sleeve onto him before flattening him down to the bench to enter him once more, nearly making him scream at the sudden intrusion.

"Holy shit, you're hard as a rock," he gasped out, realizing Cas hadn't been completely seated within him before, "Were you sitting on this thing the whole time?"

Cas ignored the question Dean had managed to whimper, "Bring your hands up behind your head."

Dean complied, feeling it as Cas took hold of his wrists, anchoring them at the level of his shoulders while putting a knee up onto the bench in order to thrust harder. His shoulders were locked, and Dean knew he'd be sore the next day or two, but he was also sure it would be well worth it. As much as his body begged for release, he'd managed a point where he could also have been settled into Cas' arms and slept.

Cas slid slowly into a gliding rhythm, his penis played across Dean's prostate much like a bow dancing on the strings of a violin, until he worked up to a more unruly, pounding motion, not only driving into Dean heavily, but driving Dean into the sleeve below him.

Dean whined in disbelief as Cas came to an abrupt halt, releasing his hands. He had gotten almost exactly half out of him, and leaned forward, dragging the back of his nails up Dean's sides. His weight came down heavily, and he ran the tip of his tongue up the side of Dean's neck as his hands came to Dean's hips, his breath hot in Dean's ear, "Move for me."

All sanity was gone, replaced by a high nothing could rival as Dean grasped the bench below him, Cas' weight still on his back, and put everything he had into the requested movement. It was a fight to do so, almost as though Cas was attempting to prevent it, but soon, Cas' hand slipped into the tight space below his stomach to steady the sleeve, and with maybe a hairsbreadth of angle adjustment, desperation was all that was left. Cas was close, he could hear it in his voice... Too much, not enough, all of it, none of it, hold on, let go, every breath, every drop of sweat burned, and out of nowhere-

Dean's throat was hoarse, and the molecules of his body needed to find each other again, but after the bone rattling, earth shaking, and possibly deafening orgasm, Cas sat up panting. In spite of the warm air, and sweat of exertion, Dean's unthinking and very primal self took over, and removing that skin to skin contact was not okay, not at all, "Stop."

"We did stop, Dean."

"No, I mean, come back," Dean mumbled, his cheek against the padded surface of the bench.

"I'm not going anywhere," Cas answered, still catching his breath.

Logic had abandoned him, and he wasn't certain what it was exactly that he thought would happen, but in the most graceless move of his life, Dean managed to knock both of them to the floor, where he promptly curled against Cas' chest.

He could feel it as Cas' breathing slowed, followed by a less than comfortable and nearly comical "Ow."

"'m sorry," Dean muttered.

"You didn't have to knock me on the floor, you know."

Dean was lightheaded, but he could easily feel all evidence of Cas sliding out of him, every muscle relaxed, and attempted to roll onto his stomach to avoid the carpet, only to feel that the sleeve had followed him to the floor, and he was only just sliding free of it. He fumbled with it, his hands numb from the grip he'd had on the bench, and wound up dropping it, sinking to the floor again in defeat, "Cas?" he asked weakly.

"Yes?" came the overly relaxed reply.

"What the hell did you do you me?" Dean asked, "I mean, you're good, damn good, but... what the hell just... damn..."

Cas rolled slightly, as though he intended to leave the floor as soon as Dean would allow it, "I knew you were going to ask, as you've asked before, and I thought it would help if you had some context."

Puzzled, Dean watched as Cas gingerly rose, downing what was left of the bottle of wine, and beginning to clean up. Dean's mind refused to cooperate, and his body was apparently hopeless, so he waited, and he watched, until Cas finally pulled him from the floor and tumbled him ungainly into the bed, settling beside him, "What was I going to ask you?"

"You always ask, even though you know that you don't want to hear the answer, and I knew, when you said we could finish the bottle, that you were going to ask, because you have no filter after your second drink."

Dean scoffed, "I got it. I'm a selfish bastard who wants you all to myself."

"You have issues with competition, yes."

"She's hardly competition, I mean, she's tiny, and you, you're... You were checking me out when I was getting out of the truck," Dean chuckled.

"Of course I was, your ass was at eye level," Cas reasoned.

Dean tilted his head slightly, "Just trying to figure out, though, if you like guys your size and bigger, body-wise, how'd you keep it up with her long enough to knock her up?"

"There it is," Cas replied, and Dean could almost hear his eyes rolling, "That was exactly the question I expected."

Dean remained quiet, waiting for an answer, not piecing it together in his haze.

Finally, Cas gave in with a sigh, "Essentially, what you've just experienced. Only, ...she was the bench."

Chortling at his bluntness, Dean shook his head, "Got all the sex appeal and personality of a bench, too... I'm gonna remember that if I see her again, call her a bench."

"I'd rather forget she exists," Cas whispered. Dean sobered immediately, and reached to comfort him.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N2: _"Cas slid slowly into a gliding rhythm, his penis played across Dean's prostate much like a bow dancing on the strings of a violin, until he worked up to a more unruly, pounding motion..."_ PUT THAT ON MY FUCKING TOMBSTONE! Don't forget to accentuate my near Shatnerial use of commas.
> 
> I was typing that line on my phone in the lobby of the city library today, and laughed so hard I got the attention of passersby. Worse yet, I was waiting on a senior friend to help with tech stuff. FML, this ship will be my undoing! Chuck be with you. FW)


	44. Chapter 44

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: Don't panic.)

* * *

** Three Months Later **

* * *

Buried under a mental blanket of sleep, Alfie was somewhat aware that Claire, warm, soft, and lately very hormonal, had rolled slightly on top of a bit of his back. She didn't move much as she slept, but every now and again, there was a movement just above his hip that he couldn't process, some small flutter of a squirm.

Supposing it was Melody having crawled into the bed with them during the night, as she'd been taking some time getting used to her new room, he shifted away, rolling as he went, checking to see that she hadn't managed to trap an arm or leg somewhere between them.

In the dim light, he found only Claire in the bed with him, and felt his mind skip a beat at the confusion, his hand going to his side where he'd felt the odd wiggle before Claire apparently felt it as well, and gave her small, but growing bump a quick rub with her palm before turning over.

With a smirk and eased by the realization, Alfie got up from the bed and made his way through the upstairs. A light left on in the bathroom clued him in that Melody was likely already awake, and the open door of the developing nursery gave another hint at what she was up to. He crept closer to the doorway, looking into Ben's old room to find Melody sitting on the floor next to the crib.

She had set one of her dolls in the low bouncer seat, and was using another one to address it. She hadn't had much to say regarding the new baby since the move, and he was eager to get an idea what was going on in her mind.

"...And when we go to the store, we will get some eggs, but you can't eat them. You get smushed bananas. But that is still a snack, so no crying," Melody reached for the smaller doll in the seat, moving it slightly and pretending it cried, asking for eggs, only to have the first doll remind it that babies can't have eggs, at which point 'the baby' questioned why, "Because if babies eat eggs they turn into a purple chicken. Then you will go to school when you're big and the other kids will say you're a purple chicken, and they won't be your friend."

"Why purple?" Alfie asked softly as Melody spun around. Her eyes were big, aware that she had been told repeatedly to stay out of the room until told otherwise, as several pieces of furniture had yet to be anchored to the wall. He beckoned for her to come out of the room and she gathered her toys and left it. Again he asked, "Why would eggs make the baby purple?"

"Not the real baby, this baby," she informed him, "That's how doll eggs work."

"Who's that?" Alfie asked, pointing to the larger doll, "Is that the mom?"

"No, that's the doctor. The baby was at the hospital because he stepped on a dog and it ate his foot. She put it back on."

Alfie pulled the door closed behind her, "If I give you eggs for breakfast, will you turn into a purple chicken?"

"No, Daddy! I'm not a baby!" Melody argued.

"You're my baby."

"You can have the one in Mommy's tummy, and I will grow up instead."

"Wish you wouldn't," he mumbled, "I'm gonna make breakfast."

Melody bounced happily through the door across the hall as he started for the stairs, putting her dolls away and picking up a stuffed mouse before following after him.

* * *

The morning had been an uneventful one, and Claire was busying about the shop in town. She'd wound up on hold and stationed Randy, who had little else to do, at the phone at the front desk to monitor the line as various tasks had her going back and forth to her office. In the garage, Xander was up to his elbows in a rotation, but overall, it was a slow day.

Expecting an intake at the sound of the door, and not wanting to take Randy off the phone, she left her office to find a familiar face, who greeted her with a very big hug.

"You're showing already?" Sam asked.

"I'm five months, I should be," Claire answered, "Did Dean send you to check up on us?"

"Well, I called him on the highway, and he said they were booked solid, and since all I need is an oil change, he told me to bring it over here."

"They don't have a quicky place in Bridgeway?"

Sam chuckled, "It's Jess' car, so, I take it where I can trust the work to be done right."

Claire shrugged as the door chimed, opening a second time, "You still dress like you're only here to audit us." Looking past Sam at the middle aged woman who'd just entered, spotting a large stack of paper in her hands, "Can I help you?"

"I'm looking for Claire Novak," the woman replied.

"That would be me."

There was a disgusted look on the woman's face as she held out the papers, "You're being served, I need you to sign the top sheet and pass it back to me. Pen, too."

"Served? For what?" Claire asked, jotting down a quick signature.

The woman spoke quickly as she made for the door, "Grandparents' rights. Your mother won't last long, and she's only asking for one weekend a month, so-"

She cut herself off as Claire, having spotted Amelia's name on the stack of papers below the one she'd signed looked up and noticed through the window that Amelia was waiting in the passenger seat of a car outside. Fuming, she'd started a lunge for the door only to be abruptly stopped by Sam's arms. The strange woman ducked out the door in a hurry as Claire struggled, seething, giving Sam few options other than to raise her a few inches off the ground.

"Don't, don't, you can't go after her right now," Sam chanted even as Claire attempted to curse a blue streak and call for her mother's head on a pike. Somehow, the sounds wouldn't come out right. His arms became a gentle assistance to the floor as her hatred and rage devolved to an open weeping. Sam reached for the papers as he kept a hand on her back, "Listen to me, Claire, this is not going to happen. Even if it were going to happen, I can drag it out until she's dead, and it becomes a non-issue, okay? Let me take these. You trust me, right?"

With the commotion, Xander had come in from the garage to find Claire in a melted, half-crouched, half-kneeling position, nearly hyperventilating.

"Xander," Sam said, hurrying for the door, "Put her on the couch on her left side, get her some water, and don't let her sit up."

With a cautionary glance at his grimy hands, Xander tried to help her to her feet, only to end up lifting her altogether as Sam ran through the small parking lot to catch up with the car.

Sam leaned down next to the open passenger window, "Amelia, do you remember me? I'm-"

"That lawyer who wouldn't help, yes. I remember."

"Right," Sam answered, taking a cautious look at the stack of papers, "Well, I was hoping, as I'm here anyway, that we could take a minute to go over this?"

Amelia's irritated companion shifted the car into park as Amelia shrugged, "What's to go over?"

"Well, I just want to make sure we're all on the same page. See, when families get into legal disputes, usually there's at least an attempt at an apology first."

"An apology!" the driver scoffed.

"She doesn't want to see me. If she does, she'll get violent because that is what her father taught her to do," Amelia answered.

Sam shrugged, "How do you know? I mean, did she ever try to attack you? And did you ever actually go up to her and say, 'I'm sorry I sold you for drug money?' It might work."

"I-" she started to stammer.

"See, I don't think this is really about the kid, as much as the kidney. Right? Would you drop this if that conversation came up?" Sam asked.

Amelia wore a look of confliction, but Sam didn't buy it.

"Let me ask you this, what is Claire's blood type?" Sam asked, setting a hand on the doorframe.

"Uh-"

"Well, you're her mother, you'd know that, right? I mean, I have three kids, I know what their types are."

Amelia gave a timid shake of her head.

"It's rare. B negative. That's why Cas has donated to her in the past, and she's been ready to help him out before when he might have needed it. But here's the thing, I'm willing to bet if she and Cas are both B negative, statistically speaking, it would be more likely that you're another type. Am I right? What's your blood type, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Uh, I'm A positive," Amelia said weakly.

Sam nodded, "Okay, well, we can end this really fast, then. Can you do a search on your phone? It'll tell you right away, Claire can't help you with this, and with your history, I'd put money on it that you're going after her because no donor wait list will take you. Furthermore, she's got enough of a complication with her current pregnancy that just dumping this load of garbage in her lap could kill her, so if you attempt to contact her again, we'll come after you for attempted manslaughter. Let me get you my card, and if she decides to get somebody else to represent her, you can still call my office and get that information, I'm pretty sure she'd allow that."

"Wait, what?" Amelia asked as Sam dug a business card holder out of his pocket.

"Huh? Oh, uh, your little girl, and like I mentioned, I have kids, I know this is hard, she is a mess, and for once it's not because of you. Now, if you are bound and determined to do this, well, that's your decision, but if you cause her to miscarry, it's just going to make it all the more likely that she'll jump on a plane and flee the country, because, frankly, she could do that today. Either way, you lose... Assuming she lives, anyway."

There was the barest hint of fear in Amelia's eyes when she met his, and he hoped it was real, and that it went beyond self-preservation, "You can't lie to me about this, can you?"

Sam chuckled slightly, "It doesn't work like that at all, just the opposite. I am telling you this as her uncle, and I can only do that because she hasn't agreed to have me represent her yet. So I'm appealing to you as a parent... She can't save your life, even if she wanted to. But don't put her at risk over this. Put her first for once."

"You're serious? She could die?" Amelia asked.

Her friend scoffed, "Amy, come on, this guy's probably not even a real lawyer! How do you even know she's pregnant? You haven't seen her."

Amelia shook her head, tears beginning to well up in her eyes, "No, he is, he was Cas' lawyer last time I was in town... Okay... Okay, I can't... We need to go back to the courthouse, I'll tell them to cancel or whatever they do-"

"Are you serious?" her friend burst, "After everything, are you kidding me? What about your granddaughter?"

Amelia shook her head, losing her composure, "She'd never remember me anyway... And if Claire wasn't really sick she'd be out here screaming at me, so-... I-I'm walking away. If that's going to keep her safe, and help her keep the new baby, I'm just gonna go."

"Amy-!"

"She can't do anything to help me, I'm screwed. But her child needs her, and... Maybe she can do better than I did."

Sam reached through the open window and set a hand on Amelia's thin shoulder, "You're making the right decision, I promise... Call my office so I have your number, I'm going to talk to her husband, I'll tell him all about this, and if there is any kind of contact that he would like to make with you, I'll set it up after we have confirmation that the suit has been dropped."

The now angry woman in the driver's seat shook her head as Amelia dragged a bony hand across her prominent cheekbone, nodding at Sam's words, "He won't call."

Sam shrugged, "There's really no telling with this guy, he's kind of a wild card. But he's good to her, really good to her."

By this point, Amelia had close to being a blubbering mess, and as she covered her mouth with her hand, her friend put the car into drive, scowling at Sam, who backed up quickly. The car tore out of the lot.

* * *

Claire was shaking as Xander passed her the cup again, "You gotta calm down."

"I can't!" she insisted, "You know what she did, and now she wants my daughter. She was a shit mother, and she... If she hurts Melody, and I can't-"

"No! No, that can't happen, Sam's gonna wipe the floor with her. Nothing bad is gonna happen... I have to admit, though, seeing you get sidelined like this is pretty weird," Xander said quietly, "Actually, kind of scary."

The door opened, and Sam stepped inside, speaking immediately, "She says she's dropping it. I think I got through to her... Claire, are you okay?"

Claire's attention was across the room, focused on Randy, leaning his back against the wall, both hands on his phone, "Did you get him yet?"

"Not yet, you want me to try your dad?" Randy asked.

She gave a huff and tried to sit up only to have Xander set a heavy hand on her shoulder, "Stay."

The phone on the desk rang, and Randy crossed the floor to pick it up, "Singer Auto South... Yeah, hold on- It's Alfie, he got one voicemail then his battery crapped out. No she's-, No, man, she's here, she's just stressing really bad, something about her mom... Hey, he wants to know if he should leave Mel at Ivan's house and take you in."

"I don't need to go in," Claire started.

"Do it anyway," Sam answered her in a no-nonsense tone, "If she changes her mind, this helps you, and it's not like you're worried about the bill."

Claire nodded to Randy, who relayed back through the phone, "Yeah, she says do it, to be on the safe side, it's not like, um... Y'know... Uh, well, it's not like there's any I can see, so."

Claire's hand met her face as Xander gave her a few pats on the back, "You're fine."

* * *

"Dean? Hey, um... I think my oil change can wait, listen," Sam's voice came through the phone, "Uh, I just left, and I thought you and Cas would want to know that Amelia was here, papers were served, I think I convinced her, she told me she's getting them un-served, oh, and Alfie's taking Claire to go get checked out. Panic attack, probably, I don't know. She was just-... Anyway, uh, So, yeah. Call if you need to, you know that."... _"To repeat this messag-"_

Dean pressed the option to close his voicemail and set his phone down with a heavy thud on the kitchen table. Cas looked up from the couch, turning in his seat to spot him, "What was that about?"

"That was about me taking the scariest shotgun from the garage and camping out on the porch swing all night over at Claire's... son of a bench."

"A bench?" Cas asked, tempted to chuckle before the words sorted themselves in his mind, "Wait,-"

"Call Claire, see if she can tell you what's going on. Sounds like Sam jumped in headfirst and talked Amelia out of whatever crap she's trying to pull... Goddamn but I hope it worked."

* * *

Extra cookies and cartoons distracted easily, and dinner echoed many past lunches well enough to be a non-event.

Bedtime was fast approaching, though, and while Ivan barely seemed to notice, it weighed on Julie. 

"Does she still nap? She looks exhausted," she asked in a hushed voice.

Ivan returned a shrug, "I don't know."

"This was a just in case thing, right? Not like she left work in an ambulance?"

"Shh... It won't throw things off too much to let the girls stay up late, and if they fall asleep, I'll stay up in case they come by. Not a big deal."

Melody wandered into the kitchen, and the constant turn of her head indicated something every parent knew by heart, making the question anticipated, "Where is my dad?"

Ivan caught a flash of sympathy and pity on Julie's face before a warm smile took over. She scooped Melody up to sit her on the kitchen counter, "He went to take something to your mommy, I think... She has a baby in her tummy, right? You're going to be a big sister like Cyndi?"

"Yeah," Melody replied, "But it's only a baby, not a fun kid."

"Well, the baby will get bigger, and learn to be fun from watching you. You'll teach the baby... When the baby comes out, where are you going to be? Are you going to Grandpa Cas for that part?"

Melody shook her head, her tiny eyebrows developing a line if concern between them, until Ivan cleared his throat, "Grandpa and Pop-pop."

"Oh," Julie slipped immediately into her practiced waitress persona, "Grandpa and Pop-pop. Are you going to sleep over at their house when the baby comes?"

"Yes. But if the baby cries loud, I will just stay there."

Julie kept her public face on as she reacted with a giggle, "Oh, I bet you're gonna have fun. I always had fun when I visited my grandpa. But right now, we are just waiting. Your daddy said he'd be back soon. If you're tired, you can lay down on the couch while you watch the movie, okay?"

"I want my dad."

"I know. And he's going to be back as soon as he can. He said so, and I could tell he was very serious about that. All we can do is try to have fun and wait," Julie answered, setting her back on the floor.

Disenchanted, Melody ambled back to the living room where the other two girls were watching the current animated princess movie. Julie stepped closer to Ivan, "It's weird we haven't heard anything yet, right?"

"His phone died before he left, and I don't have Claire's number, not since the last three times I replaced it. I mean, maybe we can try-"

Julie went to the door as the knock was still sounding, pulling it open cautiously to find Kevin on the step, "Yes?"

"Hi Julie. Alfie sent me over to pick up the kiddo. He got all the way into the emergency room without his charger, and wound up calling from Claire's phone."

"Um, sorry, that's..."

"She's here, right? Nobody else picked her up?"

Anxiety and stress got the better of her, and Julie shook her head, "I just don't think that's, uh... I mean, I don't really know you."

"Um, okay, this is awkward. I just need to track Melody down and get stuff settled for her parents since it's taking a while, so,-"

Nerves threw off Julie's breathing, but she shook her head again, adamant, "There are exactly four people in the world that I will let take her out of this house, and I'm not even sure what your last name is. I'm sorry, but unless I hear it straight from Claire or Alfie, or one of Claire's dads comes to get her, Melody's not going anywhere."

Nodding, Kevin retrieved his phone from his pocket, "Is phone good enough? Or you need video confirmation?"

Julie rolled her eyes and gestured for him to proceed. He held it to his ear as he waited for someone to pick up Claire's phone. Footsteps behind her made Julie look over her shoulder to find Ivan approaching the door.

"Hey," Ivan leaned in next to Julie's shoulder, "Here for the kid?"

Julie shot him a warning glance.

"What? ...Oh. No, honey, he's her godfather. Him and Alfie are like, uh-"

"Hey, I got a small problem. Yeah. Julie's protecting your daughter from strangers, so I need you to talk to her before she reports me for trafficking, okay?" Kevin spoke into the phone before handing it to Julie almost right away.

Unhappy with the look she was getting from Ivan, Julie took the phone, answering timidly, "Hello?"

"Julie, it's okay," Alfie's voice came through, "He's telling you the truth, I asked him to pick her up. Sorry I ran out that fast today, didn't have time to set it all up."

"Okay... Is Claire okay?"

"Judging by the length of time it takes to get anyone in here, yes. Really, she just had a rough day, and her uncle kind of bossed her into it."

"...Is that even possible?" Julie asked, her words flowing unintentionally unhindered. She heard him laugh a bit before he continued.

"Uh, sometimes, yeah. But for right now, if you guys can pass Melody off to Kevin, she's perfectly safe with him, he was there the night she was born. But there's somebody else in town we're actually trying to keep away from her, somebody dangerous, so we really appreciate you jumping in the way like that. It's a lot less to worry about."

"Yeah," Julie was quiet at the new information, surprised by it, and passed the phone back to Kevin, stepping back to let him enter the house.

Tiny, quickly repeating steps sounded on the floor as Melody caught sight of Kevin and hurried toward him, arms up and a hint of an anxious whimper, wrapping around his neck the moment she was picked up, leaning into his shoulder.

"Listen, sorry about the trafficking crack," Kevin said quietly, putting his phone away, "Not funny, I know, it's just been a long day."

"Yeah, don't worry about it," Julie said with a nod.

"Well," Kevin's voice changed noticeably as he set a hand on Melody's back, "Thanks a bunch for letting Mel stay for some extra playtime, I'm sure it was lots of fun."

Julie was tempted to explain to Melody that she'd spoken to her father and that she was in fact, supposed to go with Kevin, but given that the worn out child clearly had no intention of letting him leave without her, she didn't find it necessary, "Of course. That was fun for us, too. 'Bye, Melody! We'll see you next time."

After Ivan had given Kevin a quick pat on the back on his way out and closed the door, he turned to Julie, "Feeling a little less panicked now? I told you it was okay, you were worried over nothing."

Julie scoffed, "It sure as hell wasn't nothing."

"What?"

"Ask Alfie," she answered, "I'm going to bed."

* * *


	45. Chapter 45

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: I'm back. Did not get eaten by a shark. Did some very intense wading with my kids, got smacked by a really big wave and wound up with what may have been seawater in my eustachian tube, because who needs balance, right? It's cool, though, I had another adult close by to keep me upright while I grabbed my smaller kid and headed back to the beach. Overall, it was a good trip, and my macaroni bag was great.
> 
> Here's a chapter. Not much to do tomorrow, so likely another then.
> 
> THANKS FOR READING!!! FW)

* * *

Tiny brushes of a fingertip against her nose woke Margaret softly, only to find she'd curled protectively around something small and bony, roughly half the size of her son. Her eyes opened to find Kevin pointing at the bundle, whose long dark blonde strands were against her chin.

"Oh, gosh... Poor thing, we need to get her home," Margaret whispered.

"Got a text last night, they got home at two a.m... Apparently everything was fine when they went in, and then then something started up while she was there, now she's on bed rest the next two weeks."

"Where does this little booger fall into that, if Claire's stuck in bed?"

"Hanging out and keeping her company, or playing in her room, maybe just following Samandriel around, I don't know. But he said it was okay if you wanted to bring her back over when you go in for work."

"That's not till ten," Margaret replied.

Kevin gave a shrug as he yawned, reaching for his phone, "That's probably fine, I'll let him know. She was a lot more relaxed here than at Ivan's place, though."

Margaret stroked Melody's hair gently, "Maybe I should go in early."

"Nah, better to let them sleep."

* * *

She did what she could to hide the stress, including sleeping in, but in spite of Alfie's best attempts to keep her comfortable, by the middle of the afternoon, Claire was nearly in tears.

It had been a trying and emotional day the day before, not only did she feel as though everything was the worst type of wrong, but logistically bound in place, there was no form of defense should anyone walk in downstairs and walk out with her child.

As her mind did laps of worry, Claire repeatedly reminded herself that Alfie had taken far too much time caring for her trauma to allow anyone to hurt Melody, but the fear remained.

There was a quiet tap at the door that was a blessed break to things she'd been dwelling on for too long.

Turning over to look at the door, she saw Cas poke his head in to find her awake, and stepped in quietly, carrying a folding chair and a deck of cards, "I thought you might be bored... Melody's been particularly clingy today, and I know he's trying to keep the house quiet."

She shrugged, "What's the point? It's not like I'm sleeping."

Cas set the chair next to the side of the bed, angled to face her, and sat down, shuffling the cards, "I'm glad you're all right, even if you'd rather be up and around."

"Have you heard from Sam?"

"I think he'd call Dean first, but he did swing by to drop Jessica's car off this morning. They'll be back to pick it up later," Cas informed her.

"I need to talk to him, I want a play by play of what they said."

Cas eyes came up to meet her face with a skeptical look, "Look at where that stress has put you. How can you think it's a good idea?"

"Because then I'll stop wondering."

He set the cards down on his knee and gave the bridge of his nose a pinch as he gathered his thoughts, "Every bit of stress you take on, you also put on the baby. If Sam and Alfie are handling it, you should let them. I know it's very hard for you not being in control, but you likely had more of a shock yesterday than you know. Xander called me last-"

Another tap came on the ajar door, and Sam let himself in, "Hey, uh, feeling better today?"

"Oh yeah," Claire replied, her voice dripping with nearly vicious sarcasm, "I'm awesome."

Sam's face fell slightly, "I am so sorry, that was a lot to go through, and I didn't want to bother you this morning, just, there's some stuff I gotta tell you... I know it's personal, and all, but I kind of spilled a lot of private info to your mom to get her to back off, stuff I couldn't tell her if I was representing you legally. I mean, I still could, but, um, you should know that I told her you can't give her blood or an organ, and that this much stress could-, could put you in the hospital or make you lose the baby, and that's why she said she would drop it. I'm really sorry, that was-"

"But it worked, right?" Claire asked, "You talked her into going away?"

Sam swallowed and tilted his head slightly, "I... got her to look at the bigger picture. I got her to focus on you, and your kids, and she decided it would be better to give up."

"Did she say she was sorry at all?" Claire asked quietly.

There was a pain in Sam's voice as he avoided addressing the actual word, "She was crying. She was crying really hard, actually. But even though it's probably not good for you to see her, talk to her, or even think about her, she wanted to do what was best for you and your kids, that's what got her to stop... I have a way to reach her, if you decide to, but I wouldn't open up that can of worms, not right now."

Less than pleased, but desperately trying to cope with her situation, Claire nodded hesitantly.

"It's going to be okay," Sam reassured her, reaching to pat her ankle over the blankets, "I gave Alfie copies to hold onto that say it's been withdrawn, all you have to do is rest up for the baby."

With a brief comment and a pat on the back of Cas' shoulder, Sam left, leaving them to their cards.

Claire was quiet for some time, wordlessly playing the hand she'd been dealt. Finally, she broke a long silence between them.

"So... remember when I said if I cut back my hours, you'd owe me?" she asked.

"I remember."

"Well, I want to borrow something of yours. I don't think you're going to complain about it, either."

* * *

Ben woke with a start as the bed shifted, and rolled to his side. Millie had sat up on the edge to stretch, her back to him. It wasn't yet light out, but it was getting close. 

He rubbed his eyes sleepily as he sat up, "We really gotta address this."

"Address what?"

"This just... It keeps happening, and I... I don't want either of us to get hurt. That's all. So, if this keeps going like it-"

"You weren't due for our weekly 'this is not a thing' thing until Friday, Benji."

"My what?" Ben stammered.

Millie sighed deeply, "Look, I know you're freaked out, but it keeps happening because we're both cool with it, and we're cool with it because we are cool with each other. And we never actually officially broke up in high school, we just drifted apart, so either break up with me for real, and stop meeting up with me for lunch, asking me to hit the bookstore with you, and cooking me dinner, and it won't lead to this anymore... Or, y'know, grow a pair and get honest with yourself."

"I don't know what the hell I'm doing," Ben said quietly.

"You're pretending really hard that this isn't a relationship, because your last two sucked ass. But it just so happens that there are a billion kinds of relationships, platonic and romantic, and you're hovering between labels. Like, you are holding a 'hello, my name is' sticker to put on this thing, and you keep writing it down and crossing it out."

Ben huffed, "Yeah? And what are you doing while I'm doing that?"

"Waiting for you to run out of writing space and see if you cross it out the last time, you knob."

Millie rose from the bed, reaching for her clothes as the involuntary and quite frightening thought crossed Ben's mind that after so many weeks of semi regular overnights, he ought to offer her the chance to store a few things in a drawer. 

He sank back into the bed as his thoughts stirred and became more emotional. The stirring quickly became a torrent, roiling in his still sleep-plagued mind, broken only when Millie, now fully dressed, leaned over his larger frame and kissed him deeply.

"I started a half pot of coffee for you, but I have to get. I'll be done at three."

He could hear it when the front door closed after her, and for a moment it was easier to get her out of his mind. It all dissolved, though, as he reached the kitchen, and was confronted with the scent of her overly perfect coffee. 

It was unnerving.

* * *

Dean sat back in his desk chair as he processed what his son had just asked of him.

"For how long?" Dean asked.

"Dad-"

"Hey, this is a big deal. You can't just expect me to hand it over to you if you're not a hundred percent sure-"

"Dad, I know what I'm doing, okay?"

Dean gave him a skeptical look, and finally dug into his pocket, tossing Xander the keys, "Bring me back a burger. And don't spill anything."

Xander scoffed, "You'd think somebody else taught me to drive."

"Taught you to drive in your Pop's car for a reason," Dean grumbled.

"Yeah, okay. But I don't have a lot of choice with my truck up in the air like that," Xander replied, "You want a shake, or a soda?"

Dean shot him a look that clearly meant he was considering which would be worse for the floorboards.

"Right. Back in a bit," he said, hurrying out before Dean could change his mind.

He passed Lucas in the hallway, who leaned into the office, a hand on each side of the door frame, jerking his head toward the front of the building.

Dean rolled his eyes as got out of the chair, he'd been in a bad mood all morning, "Complaint department's on vacation."

"Nah, special case," Lucas replied, already stepping back, "Just need an authorization."

At the customer side of the desk stood a woman with a large, barefoot toddler on her hip, and around the room ran a little boy a bit bigger than Melody, causing plenty of distraction. Her clothes, hair, and lack of any makeup made it perfectly clear that she was low on sleep, and likely hanging on by a thread.

"Okay, what have we got?" Dean asked as Lucas took a seat at the keyboard.

"It's barely starting, needs a new ignition coil, but she's strapped till Friday, and can't do it all in one go. But they only have the one car, this thing craps out, her husband can't get to work," Lucas explained.

"If he misses more than two days, he'll lose his job," she said quietly, "We really don't have a lot of options right now."

Dean nodded, "So you're stuck, everything hinges on the car, bills stack up pretty fast, yeah... I know how it goes, really. Here's what we'll do, can you swing twenty bucks each paycheck?"

"Uh, yeah, probably," she replied with a less than certain tone.

"Okay, so, uh, Lucas, knock the labor down to half, and you've got this listed for a new one, have we got a refurbished one?"

"No, that's the only one we've got, or we'd have to order it," Lucas replied.

"Give her the refurb price, and we'll spot her on the disposal. What are we down to?" Dean asked.

Lucas pointed to the screen, "A little less than half what it was."

Dean was quiet for moment as he studied the screen, and shrugged, "Take another forty bucks off, I'll handle it."

Stifling an odd look on his face, Lucas made the adjustments as ordered, and printed the work order.

Despite his mother's distracted hushing and attempts to calm the boy, he barreled around the end of the desk, running clumsily into Dean's leg, bouncing off of him, and landing his bottom firmly on the floor.

Dean didn't notice the startled and deeply embarrassed look on the woman's face as he looked down at the boy. The youngster had nearly gotten back on his feet when Dean lifted him from the floor, settling him to the side, "You like cars, kid?"

Concerned, likely from suddenly being held by a stranger, the boy nodded. Dean pulled open a drawer below the keyboard as Lucas began sorting out the papers, and passed the boy three tiny toy cars before addressing the woman again, pointing out the figures on the paper, and the incremental plan to pay it off, "This should stretch it out enough to make it easy on you, and you can start any time in the next three weeks. If you have time, I can get this started now, and hopefully get it sorted out and back on the road in two, three hours."

The woman gave a hesitant look to the little boy, who was once again beginning to squirm on Dean's arm.

"Hey," Dean said, getting Lucas attention, "Run over and grab Melody's little DVD player, some cartoons, and the box of graham crackers and a juice box out of my pantry, would you? And don't give me that look, get this guy comfortable in one spot, or you're the one who's gonna be chasing after him."

The customer looked to be starting into a reassurance that the effort was unnecessary, but Dean pointed toward the station where the single-serve coffee supplies sat, "You might want to get into that stuff yourself when the kids are settled."

* * *

Kevin went out the delivery door to the tiny parking area behind the salon, as the text had requested, and climbed into the passenger side of the Mustang.

"Okay, what's the huge emergency?" he asked.

"I gotta break things off with this girl I'm not really seeing, and she's kind of an ex, but not really, and... And it's killing me," Ben spilled in a quiet voice.

Kevin eyed the younger man, who had surpassed him in height several years back, and shrugged, "Why?"

"Because it's like, every thing she does is just exactly right. She's not clingy, but she doesn't ignore me. She's nice, but she calls me on my bullshit, too. I keep asking her to hang out on these non-dates, but then she shows up, and then, it's not just friends hanging out like we used to be, it's an actual date, and... She says it's like-"

"No, dude, I mean, why do you need to break stuff off? What's wrong that you want out?" Kevin asked.

"Um, it wasn't supposed to be a relationship, and it's turning into one. Or something. I don't know if it's like a no-strings kind of thing right now, I mean, it looks like it is, but she's-... She says this would be a relationship if I would ease up and stick a label on it," Ben replied, picking at the steering wheel.

Kevin nodded, "Okay, look, if you just don't like her, then-"

"I like her just fine, that's why it's killing me."

"Okay, you lost me. Why break up? You said kind of an ex, why'd you break up the first time?"

"We didn't, exactly. Big misunderstanding, and we just avoided each other after that. There wasn't like, an end-point."

"So," Kevin shrugged along with his suggestion, "This is like a closure thing?"

"I don't know. I don't actually want to break things off, but it's like-..."

"Ethical dilemma?" Kevin offered.

Ben took a deep breath, "I feel like I'm just waiting for something to go hugely wrong. Everything started up again with her right after the whole thing with Caitlin, and I just figured I would take some time and chill first, just settle back into life, but then, there's Millie, just walking around being perfect, and I want to be pissed off, and I can't even do that right."

"Millie? You got back with Millie?"

"Right? Who the fuck saw that coming? And now, it's like the other shoe is gonna drop at any time, and it's going to be a million times worse. What the hell do I do?" Ben asked.

"Why would it be worse? What trouble has Millie ever given you? You told me before, you guys have been friends since elementary school."

Ben looked irritated, "Don't take her side."

"I'm trying to take your side, which currently looks a hell of a lot like her side. What do you want me to say? Quit calling her. If she calls you, tell her it's over and you want to see other people. If she says she's cool with the poly thing, then, well, tell her you don't want to see her... And we're back to the first question, why don't you want to be in a relationship with her?"

Ben set his head back against the headrest, "It's creepy... Everything is like, it's all exactly just right, and I'm fucking Goldilocks, and the three bears are on their way to beat my ass, right? Like, if everything can be this perfect, it's all going to go so much worse when it goes wrong. And it has to go wrong, because nothing is ever this easy, right? All relationships have hard parts. Nothing stays easy like this."

Kevin looked out the window, "Sometimes it is."

"That's crap. I bet you and Margaret start bitching at each other over nothing when nobody's around."

Kevin laughed, "Bud, there's no way. I mean, come on. Who, in a relationship over five years, do you know that gets into fights more than twice a year?"

"Five years?" Ben asked.

"Five years," Kevin repeated, "Big, nearly breaking up fights."

"Hell, I don't know. Most of the people I know who've been together that long are married, or you guys."

"Exactly. And those couples that are honest and open with each other, and everything fits, they're happy because they found a keeper, and they respect each other. So where do you and Millie fall on that scale?"

Ben shook his head, "We aren't on that scale. We aren't together."

Kevin's eyes narrowed, "If you're not together, you wouldn't feel any need to break up with her. That attachment wouldn't exist. There'd be no bond besides friendship. You're together, and your idiot brain has it's fingers in it's ears and it's screaming 'lalala, I can't hear you,' dumbass."

Ben went silent and stared out the windshield. A moment later, he shifted uncomfortably, "So she's right, I'm just not labeling what's already there?"

"Dude, you are so deep in boyfriend territory, you get any deeper, you're going to find a boyfriend of your own. But, hey, you could do a lot worse than Millie."

Ben scoffed, "I've already done a lot worse than Millie."

"Well, good thing you got that out of the way. So, when's the wedding?" Kevin asked.

"Get the fuck out of my car," Ben groused.

"Okay, look, what's the number one rule? Stay the hell away from people who're only going to hurt you. She's not the type, and you get along great. Look at your parents, look at Alfie and Claire, okay? When a couple has it easy, and they're just great to each other, they just mesh, there doesn't have to be anything bad about it. Just relax and see how it goes. You can always break up later."

"So you think I should-?"

"Go for it. Yes."

"Okay, fine, last thing, right?" he got a nod from Kevin, then continued, "Jack set us up to get back together, and after that thing with that stuff that one time, you said not to ever go along with anything Jack said or did, ever."

"And you're going to start listening now? Choice timing... Nope, I'm actually backing Jack on this one. He knows both of you well enough to know you mesh, so, go mesh," he said, popping open the door and climbing out, "I've got a dye-job to fix."

* * *

Claire had hoped, or even expected, that once Alfie had finished putting Melody to bed that the room would feel like less of a prison, but as soon as he had slipped into the room, it was clear it wasn't so.

"I can't do this again tomorrow," she said, "I will seriously lose my mind."

"You'll be okay. I'll carry you downstairs and you can be confined to the couch tomorrow."

"I'm planning a riot to cover my escape," Claire said quietly, "I've been making a rope out of bedsheets and everything."

"Not a very smart move, telling the warden," Alfie chuckled, picking up as he moved through the room, "Found any upsides apart from catching up on your sleep?"

"Sort of. I've have plenty of time to think about... well, just, everything."

"Yeah?" he asked, taking the small garbage can that had been by her side of the bed to the door, a reminder for himself to empty it in the morning.

"Yeah, not much else to do."

Alfie ducked in the bathroom and started the tub filling before coming back to the bed, "Like what? The exact pattern of specialty wallpaper for the baby's room, and whether we want to get a cleaning service in here for the first two months like with Mel?"

Claire shifted slightly as he pulled the blankets away, "More like, how much better am I doing, if Sam picking me up off the floor yesterday didn't freak me out? I mean, I didn't try to hit him, and I didn't chase after him, and he came in here today and, well, you know how he's always touching people, shoulders, pat on the back, or whatever, like, all the time?"

"It's all the time to you. It's overly friendly to most people, but not a big deal," Alfie answered, reaching to help with her shirt. A minuscule power struggle ensued before a hard look reminded Claire she was supposed to be as still as possible.

"Well, a few years ago, him patting me on the foot would have gotten something thrown at his head after yesterday, so-"

Alfie slipped the short pajama bottoms down her legs, and for a second, she was embarrassed to realize he wasn't just looking, he was watching for any hint of blood before he picked her up carefully and went to the bathtub.

"Anyway, it just seems like maybe that's a sign that the mental side of things is still healing," she finished somewhat weakly as he lowered her into the bath.

Alfie took a seat on the edge of the tub, "I suppose... Of course, even though you don't see him as often, he's still family. I think that's a more likely explanation."

"He also said he gave you some papers for us to hang onto," she continued, not catching a very guilty look in his eyes, "So, does that mean that we're-"

"It means it's handled. You're supposed to be resting as much as you can, the doctor said no stress, physical or mental. And you promised you'd go with it. You have to trust me sometimes."

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't trust you," Claire replied in a soft tone he rarely heard.

He leaned down to kiss her gently and let his hand fall to her protruding belly, "Obviously. Just, y'know, this is one of those times you need to let me take over."

"What if not knowing is causing me stress? What do we do about that?"

"What's to know? She sued, she got a lecture from your uncle, and she dropped it. It's all wrapped up with a bow. All you need to do is figure out the paint color and keep your mind on happy stuff while we wait this out."

Claire watched his face carefully, "Why do I get the feeling you're not telling me everything?"

Alfie looked at the floor to avoid her eyes before giving a nod, "Because I'm not. I'm not going to, either. I'm taking care of the details and-"

"You're keeping things from me?"

"Necessary things. I won't lie to you, but I won't bog you down in the details, either. I'm doing my part, here, and I won't apologize for it."

"You're buying her off... Aren't you?" Claire asked, "That has to be it, that or Melody, because she would never just-"

"Melody will never see her," Alfie replied firmly, his voice raising just enough to be noticeable, "Melody will never have contact with that woman, not if it kills me. And she's not getting a dime, either... I can do this, I can be that brick wall you need right now, Claire, but you have got to step back."

"Okay," Claire said quietly, trying to relax in the warm water.

"Sorry," Alfie whispered, "The hardest part of all of this is trying to keep it off your shoulders, but once everything is well out of the woods, I'll tell you everything, I swear."

Claire shrugged, "By that point, you'll have to. You'll be going crazy trying to keep your mouth shut."

"I already am... Do you want me to help with your hair, or just pass you stuff?"

"Pass me stuff. No offense, but you kind of suck at it."

Alfie pretended to pout, "Melody's hair turns out fine."

"That's because there's no hope for Melody's hair. It does whatever it wants... Probably because the roots are connected into her brain," Claire answered in a snarky voice before slipping deeper into the water to soak her head.

"Was yours like that?" Alfie asked as she came up further, and passed her the bottle of shampoo, "When you were little?"

"I don't remember. I remember getting it yanked every time she brushed it, and I remember chopping it off myself when her boyfriend kept saying how pretty it was and it made me uncomfortable. I was grounded for a long time for that."

Alfie moved from the side of the tub to sit on the floor, crossing his arms on the lip of it, resting his chin on them, "Was there any part of your life with her that didn't hurt?"

Capping the bottle, Claire set it aside, "I'm sure there had to be, but nothing comes to mind. Any time I could get away from her, though, it was better. My friends had parents who didn't suck, so I at least knew that shit wasn't normal or healthy, and I figured out the chance of being born to two equally awful people were pretty slim, thank god."

"If we're both trying to do the exact opposite of what our parents did, are we just setting her up to be the same way? Like, she's going to do the opposite of us, and her kids-"

Claire scoffed, "No, we're avoiding repeating mistakes, that's all. Meanwhile, you had Linda for an example, and I've got my dads. We're fine, really. We just saw the worst of it first hand. She'll be okay, and so will this guy."

* * *


	46. Chapter 46

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: Where the heck did my momentum go? Yikes... Note that Alfie went out of town during the time gap in this chapter, we're going to backtrack a bit later and cover it.)

* * *

It was nearing the end of the day, and Dean was looking forward to closing up, having had a mind-numbingly slow go of it, when the door opened.

He was sitting at the desk, pulling customer information for a call back on a price quote, and was greeted with a young, but very angry presence.

"How can I help you?" Dean asked.

"I'm looking for this Winchester guy, is he around?"

"Dean or Ben?"

"The owner."

"You found him," Dean answered.

The man nodded, his actions still aggressive if not threatening, and Dean waited patiently as the guy gathered his wits and began to speak, strained by his attitude, "My wife brought in a white Ford Taurus the other day, you guys switched out the ignition coil, and set up a payment plan, right?"

"Yeah, I remember. One car family, baby and a preschooler?" Dean asked, glancing past the man as the door opened and Cas stepped inside, waiting patiently.

"You dropped over half the bill. Why?"

Dean shrugged, "Because I was in a spot where I could help your family out, so I did."

"Bullshit. This is bullshit, and you're gonna stay the hell away from my wife!"

"Uh, yeah, I am. I'm married," Dean replied lightly as though the man had told a joke.

Shaking his head angrily, the man continued, "I don't have to put up with this. You're gonna put the full bill back together, I'm not about to owe you anything, and you think for one second-"

"Buddy, I don't want anything to do with your wife," Dean interrupted, standing up from the chair, and gesturing to Cas by the door, "I'm married to him."

The man turned a little too quickly to get a look at Cas, who didn't even bat an eye. He turned back to Dean, "Yeah, well, don't think for one second that I need some kind of charity, you just give me the whole damn bill like I asked you for."

"Charity?" Dean asked, "Everybody needs charity. I needed it when I was homeless and hungry, and too young to get a job without a parent's signature, and I got enough charity to get on my feet and make something of myself. And if I can avoid charging you a thousand bucks for something when you've got four mouths to feed off of one paycheck, I'm going to. You don't come in here and try to tell me how to run my business, I get enough of that from my kid. Now I suggest you pack it up and get the hell out before I clear the whole damn bill just to piss you off!"

Flustered, the angry man turned to Cas, "And what the hell do you think you're staring at?"

Cas met his eyes, but instead turned to Dean, "What did you want to have for dinner?"

"Anything you want, honey, I'm easy."

"I know that all too well, Dean, but you can be a little finicky about food. I was thinking of chicken parm?"

Dean nodded, muttering slightly, "That's fine, yeah, but we talked about this, don't hit on me in front of the customers."

The furious man seemed to wonder if his presence had been forgotten, and stepped between them once more, pointing a finger in Dean's face, "This isn't over."

Dean scoffed, calling after him as he hurried out, "Have a nice day."

The door shut roughly as Cas shook his head as the engine of the man's car sounded outside, "I wish you wouldn't let people treat you like that."

"Let them? I stood up for myself. And besides, he's in a rough spot, probably worried what might have happened to get the bill that low. Better he yell at me instead of her, and you coming in probably cleared that up real fast. Living paycheck to paycheck sucks," Dean answered, sitting down once more at the computer, "I just need, like, an hour before I lock up, and I'll be right over."

Cas nodded before stepping outside.

* * *

It had been a week. A whole week. He'd been sure that going cold-turkey would put his brain to rights, and the first text, he'd assured her he wasn't ignoring her on purpose, he was just very busy. If he could make it a week, he could make it two weeks, and the less frequent contact would let him think.

Ben didn't want to think. He'd nearly finished with his tasks at Dr Parker's veterinary clinic, and everything had been a blur. Uncertain he'd done everything correctly, he backtracked and checked his work.

Leaving, his muddled mind was no kinder to him, and he found his car going down a side street he never took, and when the fog lifted for a moment, he realized he was particularly close to the bakery.

The desperate, aimless feeling that had taken over his day convinced him to park the Mustang, and through the very familiar window, he could see Millie and Aubrey's grandmother, slowed considerably by her failing health, still caring for her small business.

"Fuck my life..." Ben muttered before getting out of the car. He had picked Millie up from the location too recently to try to pretend he didn't know she would be there.

Heading inside, the door squeaked, and he went straight to the counter as the elderly woman made her way to the register.

"Ben, dear, were you looking for Millie? She's getting the sourdough started for tomorrow."

"Uh, actually, I was hoping I could grab some fudge cake. Just, um, kind of been wanting some lately," he said quietly.

She smirked, "Oh, now, Ben, don't play. Everybody knows pregnant ladies get whatever they want."

He blinked, and suddenly hoped the color wasn't draining from his face, "What?"

"You are such a good brother! And that Claire, well, you can tell your fathers raised you both right."

"Oh, yeah, um, no, the cake is for me, but you're right," Ben replied, tugging his phone from his pocket in a hurry, "As long as I'm here, I better check, or she might kick my butt later."

"Ben?" Millie's voice came from the doorway to the back room as he was in the middle of typing a word, "You didn't tell me you were coming, what's up?"

With a knowing look, and he was sure, a hidden chuckle, Millie's grandmother busied off to the back.

"Uh... I just really needed some fudge cake. I think I'm having one of Claire's pregnancy cravings, it happened a couple of times with Mel. But not as bad Xander, I caught him dipping hotdogs in a tub of cool-whip... Well, actually, that might have been from the whole scrambled brains thing," Ben rambled quietly.

"So you're just here for some cake?" Millie asked. He detected a hint of skepticism, but thankfully, his phone chirped.

"No. No, I'm here for fudge cake and also a buttermilk pie. Priority on the pie."

Millie nodded and set about gathering and packaging the sweets for him, coming back to the register with two boxes and a small bag, "I threw in a strawberry swirl, she sent your dad in for that one time when her husband was out of town last time, so she might want to stick that in the back of the fridge, just in case."

"Thanks."

"Yeah, no problem. Can I get you anything else?"

"Uh, yeah," Ben answered with a nod, "My balls back... Or, um, an actual date. Your pick."

Millie's jaw dropped as her face transformed into an exaggerated smile. He wished she wouldn't do that, it was only encouraging him to find a way to bring out that expression at least once a day. He was sure he'd seen in once in a Drew Barrymore movie at a young age, and likely jumpstarted a weakness for the typical girl-next-door types.

"You're admitting it?" Millie asked, "Wow, that must have been really difficult, I mean, this has only been not-a-thing for the last three or four months!"

"If you want to get technical, we never actually broke up, so this whole time we've just been seeing other people on the side. So, I decided I'd rather ask you, nicely, to make it into a closed relationship."

"That's a big step. Are you sure?" in her question, the teasing fell away.

Part of his mind was pelting another part with the word 'infatuation,' but somehow it just didn't stick. He considered the day he moved into his house, and Xander's comment about the likelihood of Caitlin flushing Lisa's ring down the toilet in a fit of annoyance. He'd known Millie for too long to consider it even a possibility. He'd been around for one of her particularly bad breakups with a known asshat, and the majority of their social circle thought she'd handled it beautifully... Not that she didn't handle most things beautifully... And he was back to-

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure after... shit, how long have we been dating, then? I mean, if you count this hella long break in the middle of it? Seven or eight years, right? I mean, that's kind of a big deal. Unless, you know, you're not into it, in which case, you've just been hanging around for the last four months and making me question my sanity, because-"

"Shut up," Millie said gently.

Ben huffed, about to tell her off in a friendly manner, but his train of thought had stopped dead in it's tracks, and suddenly, he forgot how to speak. She was smiling. This was Jack's fault. The pie smelled really good, but he was sure Claire wouldn't share with anyone but Melody. He kind of felt nauseous, "I'm in love with you."

Millie gave him a reassuring nod, "It's okay, Ben. You'll survive. And yes, I'll go out with you. You still like bowling?"

"If you still wear snug jeans when you go, then, yes," Ben answered, passing her his debit card.

She swiped it on the side of the register and passed it back to him, "Then I'm free Friday, all day. Now, go. Don't keep the pregnant lady waiting on her pie."

Nodding dumbly, Ben picked up the boxes and paper bag and made his way to his car. Stopped at a red light on the way home, not far from the bakery, he considered the awkward interaction, and his face hit his palm, "Goddamn, I am such an idiot!"

* * *

Dean thought he heard something when he was on the front porch, but it wasn't until he was inside that he could tell Cas had turned on some music. It wasn't completely out of the ordinary, but it was certainly the first time it had happened since the move.

He went quietly into the kitchen, slipping his arms around Cas' waist from behind and pressing a quick kick to the back of his neck.

"Dinner isn't ready," Cas stated.

"Yeah, I can see that," Dean replied, adjusting his arms and swaying Cas slightly to the tune on the radio.

"If you want a dance, let it wait until this is off the heat."

"Yeah?" Dean asked over Cas' shoulder, "Can I hold you to that?"

"As long as it doesn't ruin my dinner, yes."

Dean released him, moving to the fridge for a beer, pulling out a second one for Cas and setting it on the counter near him, "You've been in a really good mood lately, considering all the stuff Claire's going through."

"I meant to tell you last night, but, well, we were a little preoccupied."

"Tell me what?" Dean asked, taking a swig of his beer.

Cas lifted one of the large fried chicken breasts onto a plate of noodles, "Charlie's gotten a grant to have the district's computer sciences programs upgraded, and it'll be fully funded by some foundation, leaving money in the budget to be moved to arts and music. Also, they found a place to put Hannah, over at the high school, and far away from me. I'm very pleased."

"Bitch shouldn't have threatened your job like that, though. That was bullshit... Who's gonna replace her?"

"That's yet to be decided. I heard a rumor about someone who's working in district administration, some former first grade teacher named Garth. He has a reputation as a friendly fellow."

"Sounds like that skinny guy who was handling Xander's stuff, helping his coach get him back on the field," Dean paused to scoff, "Those middle schoolers are going to eat him alive."

Cas shrugged, "Possibly. Or he might be exactly what's needed. No need to speculate."

Dean took a sidelong look, scoping Cas' body, "You are way too relaxed. I may have to take advantage of that later."

Cas smirked, "Would you put the salad on the table?"

* * *

** Three Months Later **

* * *

Claire sat quietly, listening to the obstetrician as Alfie continuously ran his hand over her back as something of a physical distraction. She hoped he was listening, but he kept looking at the black and white print-outs of the 3D ultrasound, specifically at the ones of the baby's face.

"It did move, the cervix is completely clear, however, generally speaking, we don't attempt a vaginal delivery if any part of it is within two centimeters of the cervix, because we don't know if it would start a bleed as the cervix dilates, or as the baby comes out... You are at just under two centimeters away, or we might even call it a tight two... If this was your first birth, I would recommend the c-section, no question about it, however, as easy as your first birth was, and at home, no less, this is more likely to be safe. The only advantage, really, is that if we go in after him, when he comes out, when the placenta comes out, I'm going to have a very good clear look at exactly what's happening, and if something does go wrong, we can stop it immediately. And barring any actual emergency during delivery, there's no reason you couldn't have another perfectly healthy home birth again in the future, we'd just check a few extra things next time to make sure we didn't get a repeat."

"So a c-section is safer?" Claire asked, "At least, for this time?"

"I'm on the fence, Mrs Novak. At this point, assume the baby is fine, he could come tomorrow and be perfectly healthy, it's you we need to worry about. On one hand, the recovery is much harder, but if anything went wrong, we'd be in there and ready to handle it right away. That's not to say we couldn't have complications anyway, but-"

"No, just, um, we'll do the c-section," Claire replied quietly.

Alfie met her eyes with a concerned look, as if to question her, but shrugged, "If you're sure."

Nodding, she answered, "Yeah, I'd rather tough it through the harder option if I'm more likely to live."

"Mrs Novak, I would never suggest for a moment that-"

"No, if it knocks my chances of not seeing my kids grow up from a two percent down to a one percent, I'm going to take it... But I don't want to be awake for it, either."

The doctor was quiet, clearly making a note on his chart, "Of course we're going to respect your wishes on that one, but I'd strongly suggest you look for some videos online just in case it changes your mind. I'd hate for you to miss it and regret it later."

"We'll see," Claire answered.

It wasn't until the door closed after the doctor that tears began to well up in her eyes, and Alfie stepped in front of her, at first intending to help her down from the exam table, but instead lending her a shoulder, "Hey, it's okay... I can take care of you and the baby, and Melody. We've got family close by, it's gonna be fine."

"It was supposed to be easier this time, and what if it just keeps getting harder?"

"What do you mean?"

"What if this sucks, and the next time sucks even worse? Or what if this one sucks so much I cancel the next one completely? I hate it!"

Alfie gave a surprised blink, "Um... Another one?"

"I don't know! I'm so pissed off at my stupid faulty goddamn uterus I could puke."

He shifted her hair away from his face, "It's okay, just, you know, get those feelings out of the way. Let them pass... At least you're cleared for a little more fun, now."

"Barely," Claire grumbled, "Still kind of pissed at you for running off last month."

"I had to, okay? It was family stuff, I had to sign some things, don't worry about it. I'm staying home until you're sick of me this time."

Claire scooted a little closer to the edge of the table, and holding her carefully, making room for her belly, he eased her to the floor, "I need some tater tots."

"But your heartburn-?" with a disapproving look from Claire, who was still wiping her cheek, he went quiet, "Okay. Yeah, tater tots."

Claire soon had her very shapely maternity dress on, and sat down in one of the chairs to the side of the room as Alfie helped her with her boots. She'd learned with Melody that the snug fit had kept her ankles from swelling much until she'd dubbed the laces too big a hassle, and was determined to keep wearing them throughout her pregnancy. Finished, Alfie helped her up from the chair, "So, um... Next one, huh? How many?"

"I don't know."

"Okay... Maybe we should try to come up with a clear number on that? Probably sometime between babies, so we're both in a nice and clear, realistic place about it."

"You mean when I'm not hormonal?" Claire asked. Her voice was flat, and he only knew that he didn't know what reaction she was about to have.

"Um,-"

"God, I'm fussy, I haven't lost my damn mind. I'm not going to say, like, twelve, or something. One or two after this, I guess, maybe. We'll figure it out."

The door opened as Alfie finished tying her second set of laces, and rose to help her up from the chair. The nurse immediately began apologizing, "Oh, I thought you'd already left, I am so sorry!"

"No, we're done," Claire said with a grunt as she stood, compensating for the size of her stomach.

Moving out into the hallway, the nurse continued into the room to prepare it for the next patient, "That is so sweet he puts your boots on for you. We get way too many dads in here that just aren't that caring."

Alfie shrugged, "I'm making up for missing the last kid being born... Which I'll never be able to make up for, so-"

Claire tapped him lightly on the arm with the back of her hand to quiet him, and they started for the desk to check out.

"Keep smacking me around like that, and they're going to call the police," Alfie whispered.

"Yeah. You're a battered woman," Claire replied, "It would almost be funny if I hadn't nearly broken your nose a bunch of times already."

"I can take it... Where do you want to get those tater tots from?"

"The diner, I guess. Everywhere else is too greasy, at least the diner has real food."

* * *

Melody clung to Xander's neck as he opened the door of the apartment, only to be greeted with a rather surprised look from Cora. Pointing over his shoulder, "Tell me that's not yours."

Xander scoffed, "That's my niece, so, kind of. Same way I claim the rest of my family."

"You're babysitting?" she asked, stepping inside.

Melody squirmed as her grip was slipping, kneeing him in the back as she did.

"Yeah. Ben's falling down on the job, no treats, follows mom's rules constantly. She needs a chance to cut loose sometimes."

Chuckling, Cora set her purse down, "Awesome. Should we teach her some bad words?"

Melody's ears perked up as Cora had gained her full attention, "I know some bad words!"

"Yeah?" Cora asked as Xander lowered Melody to the floor by one arm, "What's the baddest word you know?"

"Unacceptable," Melody replied proudly, stumbling over the syllables slightly, "That's what Mom said when I said I cleaned my room good enough."

"She means cuss words, Mel," Xander replied.

"Oh. Like shit-fer-brains?"

Cora barked out a surprised laugh at the child's bluntness, "Where did you learn that?"

"Grandpa."

* * *

Claire looked around the diner from her vantage point in a booth opposite Alfie. It should have been far more crowded.

"This place is going downhill fast," she commented.

Alfie fidgeted with the phone in his hands and gave only a small shrug, "Julie was usually on duty while her kids were at school, they're probably still settling in with whoever the new manager is."

"Still," she said, eyes scanning the nearly empty room, "Julie leaving shouldn't make it turn into a ghost town."

"It's not like we're the only ones here."

"Basically, we are. I think I just saw a tumbleweed pass the bathrooms."

Alfie chuckled, "Okay, it's emptyish."

Shortly, a waitress, likely a high school kid Claire didn't recognize, brought them their orders. With a look of relief, Claire picked up one of her tater tots and bit into it, only for her features to change to a look of disgust a moment later. She quickly reached for a napkin, and spit out the offending bite.

"What's wrong?" Alfie asked.

Claire shook her head and spoke with obvious disappointment, "It's still frozen in the middle."

"Okay, hang on," Alfie turned sideways to lean out of the booth, spotting the same waitress leaning on the bar, texting. He waited for her to look up and waved her over.

"Something else I can get you?" she asked, failing to stifle her boredom.

"These are still frozen inside," Claire said quickly, pointing to her tater tots.

"Um, if you let them sit for a bit, they'll thaw," she answered, as though the solution was obvious.

"I don't want undercooked food. I have to be picky about bacteria, because I'm pregnant. I need these fully cooked, this isn't going to cut it," Claire replied, pushing her plate closer to the edge of the table.

With a huff, the waitress rolled her eyes, "If you don't like how they're cooked, I can get you some ketchup."

"No, that," Alfie cut in, seeing the color rising in Claire's cheeks, "That won't work. Ketchup doesn't apply heat and kill bacteria. Also, the kitchen needs to know in case the fryer is broken, or if they aren't cooking them long enough. And besides that, she can't eat these."

"I could find something else to do with them," Claire muttered crassly. 

"Look, what do you want?" the waitress asked, "Because the manager doesn't comp meals. So I can shove the darn plate in the microwave, that's pretty much the best I can do."

Alfie was about to argue, but a middle aged man stepped closer to the table from seemingly nowhere, "What's going on?"

"These guys don't like the tots," the waitress said softly as she gestured to Claire's plate.

"Why?" the man asked in an accusational tone.

"These aren't tots, they're deep-fried ice cubes with a potato crust," Claire answered, "And I can't eat them. All I want is food that's actually cooked, because I didn't order them to stare at."

"They look fine to me," he grumbled.

Claire picked up one of the tater tots that wasn't smothered in chili and cheese, and tore it in half, touching the center, "See? Still cold."

"Look, lady-"

"Nope!" Claire answered quickly, reaching for her purse, "It's no wonder you're going out of business, if you can't even fry potatoes right. That's just a requirement for any place that serves food these days. But if you're gonna get bitchy at me for it-"

"I am not about to lose business pandering to some assholes who come in here whining so they can get their meal for free!" the man snapped.

"Nobody was asking for that!" Claire roared, "All I wanted was some fucking deep-fried starch, and you _had_ to be a dick about it! God, I would have paid for a second order if you'd just make them right this time! And calling me an asshole? How dare you!"

"Claire, hey-" Alfie said softly, reaching for her hand, but Claire was already getting to her feet in an awkward waddle of pissed off leverage, and suddenly he was less concerned about her stress than he was the safety of the apparent manger.

"Take a damn good look around. This business is going under, and you're the reason why! Hell, I bet one look at your books would show you the exact day Julie left," Claire argued, leaning one hand heavily on the table. The waitress had had to move to get out of Claire's way, and now Alfie was blocked into the bench by the man who didn't seem to notice him now that Claire was full swing.

The man's face was turning a reddish shade of purple, "You're a Novak, right? You think you own the whole fucking town, don't you? And people are just supposed to bend over backward because you're popping out a kid? That is some of the most entitled crap I have _ever-_ "

Claire's free hand went to her stomach as the other arm gave a hard jerk, knocking into the edge of the plate. It slid from the table slowly as she made a false grab for it, and it tumbled, dropping it's contents before falling from the edge of the table itself, landing on top of the chili, tots, and cheese that now stained the man's khaki slacks and his shoes.

Claire let out a slow breath as the hand she'd tried to catch the plate with went back to rubbing the top of her belly. Alfie was sure it had been on purpose, but Claire was covering well, "Wow, that was a really big kick..."

* * *

Julie was surprised to find Alfie's name on the screen as she answered her phone, "Hello?"

"Hey, um, got a question. How do you fry tater tots at home?" Alfie asked. His voice was quiet, and she was sure she heard the sound of a metal pan being set down on a stove.

"Somebody's got a craving, huh?" Julie asked with a chuckle as she watched the girls tearing through the back yard in their swimsuits, running through the sprinkler before chasing each other up a small playscape, "Use a deep pot half full of oil, get it really hot, and then throw in just one, When one will come out right, try five. You'll get a feel for it. Don't let it pop too much, and don't let it catch fire, if it does, you have to put it out with baking soda or something, water won't work."

"Okay," he answered, "Yeah, we tried going to the diner for lunch, but the new guy is driving out all your customers."

"They aren't my customers anymore. And that new guy is probably the owner. When I finally missed too many days in a row and he fired me, he said he could do it better for less, so he's running the day shift now... Dumbass has no idea how to run the place."

"That was pretty clear, yeah... So, has Ivan made any progress with that, um-"

"Hell if I know, but he's been holed up in the garage the last three days. He's headed to the studio on Tuesday, are you going with him?" Julie asked.

"Uh, no, I'm staying put. I missed the first birth, I'm not missing this one... Also, she's going to need help, so-"

"Yeah, I get it. Listen, I know I'm going to sound like a bitch just asking this, but, um- and I hope you'll keep the fact that I asked quiet... When Ivan's out of town, does he act any different?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line, "Different?"

"Around other people, I mean," Julie clarified.

"Uh... Well, he's got kind of a more silentish public persona he kind of takes on, I guess, but he's been doing that the whole time I've known him."

She hid a sigh, "That's not exactly what I meant, but-"

"Oh. Well, if you meant 'is he running around with a bunch of groupies,' that would be a no. I mean, they do show up, but he brushes them off. As far as I know, you've got nothing to worry about, and I won't tell him you asked."

She was aware of the hormones that were causing her voice to strain, but ignored them as she was sure he'd understand, "You know, every time you or Claire are nice to me, it makes all that history stuff so much weirder."

"Sorry, that's not... You know, it's history because you're a completely different person now."

"Yeah, but you were right when you called me a pig."

"Maybe, but I'm really glad that you chose to do something about it."

* * *


	47. Chapter 47

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: Real life is cutting into my writing time! Booooo! I gotta fix that.)

* * *

"She actually said 'the tattoo lady was kissing Uncle Xander?'" Claire asked in a hushed voice, "I should call him. This is just too weird."

"Because his girlfriend has tattoos?" Alfie asked skeptically. 

"We don't know that she's his girlfriend, or even who she is. He brought a stranger around Melody without telling us."

"It wasn't like-" Even in the dark, he could feel the glare boring into him, "Okay, look, this might be nothing. Yeah, she was dressed kind of trashy, but she seemed nice, and how people look doesn't tell you who they are. And it's not like seeing two adults kiss is going to ruin her childhood. So, just relax, call him tomorrow and ask... ask nicely. Again, it's probably nothing."

"If he brought some hooker-looking tramp around my daughter-"

Alfie choked down the urge to laugh, "Hey, that's not fair. I remember driving three hours because you and Margaret wanted to see Rocky Horror, and you were wearing-"

"That's different! I was somewhere it was socially acceptable, and in therapy trying to regain some control and ownership of my own body, so-"

"Yeah, but you don't have any idea why she was dressed like that, you didn't even see her."

Claire scoffed, "You have a really easy going definition of trashy, so you saying she was dressed kinda trashy, she wasn't looking like Dolly Parton."

The bedroom was quiet as a smirk crossed Alfie's face, and he decided to push some buttons, "You know, as Melody gets older, she's going to have her own ideas about how she wants to look. And knowing you, and knowing her, you're going to be too restrictive, and she's going to tell you how wrong you are... I'm going to have to get in the middle of it all, and you're both going to hate me for it."

He waited patiently, listening for some response, but Claire only shifted, rustling the sheets. 

"The hard part is," he continued, "How do you tell your child, your baby, that she looks like ... um, inappropriate, without ruining her self image?"

"Easy. You look her right in the eye and say 'Mel, you're beautiful, and brilliant, and a kind, loving person, but if you don't go put some clothes on, I'm shipping you off to a convent.'"

"Oh my god, you planned that. She's not even four yet, and you're already planning on this."

Claire scoffed, "I'm going to do what's right for my kids, and lay down the law, yeah."

"Like Cas, or like Dean?" Alfie asked.

"Shut up."

"So, like Dean."

"That is not-"

Alfie tightened the arm he had over her, "You're upset because it was a stranger. You have every reason not to trust anyone you don't know, but you know Xander. And do you really think anything dangerous is going to get to her when Xander's there to get in the way? ...Relax, call him in the morning, and after you have the whole story, then read him the riot act if you need to."

Claire went quiet as Alfie attempted to get to sleep, but after a few minutes, he realized she was wide awake. She had a nervous energy about her he'd learned to pick up on easily when something wasn't right, and as he'd expected, soon her hand went to her face.

"Something's wrong, and it's not about this, is it?" Alfie asked, "Are you worrying about the birth?"

"No," her tone was sad, "Just go to sleep, I don't want to get into it right now."

"I can't sleep when you're crying. They'll revoke my membership at the good-husbands club."

"Do you think my mom is dead?" Claire asked in a hushed voice with a hint of a tremble.

Alfie shook his head, "No, I don't... I'm keeping tabs on her."

Claire turned over, "What?"

"You're supposed to be low stress right now. Don't give her another thought, not after what she did. I'm handling it."

He could feel the tenseness in the pattern of her breath, the rise and fall of her ribs as she let her head sink into the pillow, "What if she ends up dead in a gutter somewhere?"

"Claire-"

"Or if she tries to come back?"

He shook his head, "She's not well enough to travel. I need you to relax, okay? When you're out of the woods, I'll tell you everything, I swear."

"Out of the woods?" Claire said quietly, "I don't even know how to feel about it, and it's been bothering me all week."

Alfie nuzzled against her shoulder, "Okay, fine... That family thing, that was about her..."

Claire was quiet, but at the turn of her head, despite the darkness, he knew she needed to hear more.

"Sam got her number, when she sent in confirmation she withdrew the request for a visitation order... He told me about her backing down, and what convinced her, and I put in a call to Crowley, who started to set some things up for me... I wanted her away from here, but not so far I couldn't keep an eye on things, I went and toured this place, some half-decent end-of-life place, and signed a few papers... If she... _When_ she gets really bad, I'm the one they're gonna call, and if it's what you want, we'll go and see her, or she can just pass in the care of whatever employees are working that day. Crowley met with her, and paid for whatever she wants from the local funeral home. In the meantime, she'll be comfortable. It's nowhere near the best treatment, because she doesn't deserve it, but they'll take good care of her, and she'll be treated with more respect than she ever gave anybody else."

"...So she won't just be dead in a gutter somewhere, just some anonymous corpse buried without a name?" Claire whispered.

"Not unless that's what you want."

Claire shook her head, and seemed to relax as she thought it over, "I don't want her to be my responsibility, but she doesn't have any other family."

"She's not family. She's a relative, and we're in this together... Though, for the record, if your dads want to retire to a huge yacht or something, there's an extra one in South Carolina, and they-"

"You have an extra yacht? Wait, of course you do," Claire said softly, "Did you have to waterproof your extra Rembrandts for it?"

"No, just the prairie dogs. They don't handle water well."

He felt the motion of the baby's kick against his arm as the room went silent once more, and soon he could tell that she was sleeping peacefully in his arms.

* * *

**Two Months Earlier**

* * *

He'd made note of the first class seat he'd purchased for her, and spotted her sitting a few rows ahead of him during the flight. He'd arranged it carefully. He watched her, studied her, and was careful to avoid eye contact when she'd gotten up for the restroom, despite the short flight.

Her skin was a sickly color, and she was noticeably weak, as Sam had described.

Alfie felt a bit odd at first, tailing his mother in law like some sort of spy game, but a quick reminder to himself of how deeply scarred Claire had been erased any amusement from his mind. She had been just as much to blame as Bartlett, maybe...

Through the airport, he kept an eye on her, glancing around occasionally to avoid giving the impression that he was following her, but he had no intention of introducing himself until necessary, and hadn't planned on it until reaching the assisted living and hospice facility.

She had been told to wait at the curb to be picked up by a hired car, but although he had hoped to get a rental for himself, it was obvious as she reached the door that she was struggling greatly with her meager luggage. Her frailty was evident, and a pang of guilt struck him sharply, as he considered his own rather irritating mother in such a situation, dying, and alone in an unfamiliar place, being cared for by strangers, paid for by some unknown benefactor.

Stepping forward, he picked up the small suitcase she'd dropped as she tried to keep several pill bottles from falling from her very jostled purse, quickly taking an obvious look at the luggage tag in order to make his stalking less evident, "Let me help you with that, uh-, Amelia-, Jones? Claire's mother?"

"Yes? You know my daughter?" she asked, her eyebrows coming close.

"I sure hope so, I married her," he answered, offering his hand, "My name is Alfie."

Shaking his hand with a very timid grip, she nodded, "You're the one who set this up?"

"Yes, well, despite everything, you're Claire's mother, so, even though I can't have her getting upset by you even being around town, I have a responsibility to see to it that you have everything you need. The car should be here in a few minutes, do you need to sit down?"

Nodding once more, she settled onto a nearby bench. Alfie set the luggage down, but continued to stand, watching for the car. Amelia appeared to be too tired to talk, yet full of questions that would likely go unanswered. He almost took joy in the uncertainty he was inflicting.

Soon, a black luxury sedan stopped at the curb with the plate number Crowley had emailed to him, and he had Amelia get in as he loaded the trunk before the driver could help. He went around the car and took the seat beside her.

"I want you to know," she said as the car reached the edge of the airport drive, "I really appreciate you doing all of this for me. I had a couple of friends offer me a place to stay, but they can't really handle all of the medical stuff, you know? And the state medical stuff is just... It's hard... This is just, I don't know... Unbelievably kind of you."

He'd chosen carefully, and she had no idea. The place was far from the worst available, possibly topping mediocre for the area it was in, but it was still a shithole compared to the care waiting for his own parents and any other family members who wanted it. But the part he had specified for Crowley, the part that made this particular place preferable, despite being several hours away, was that the morals of the place were easily swayed, and easily bought. She would be appropriately cared for, but with so much as a sour note in her voice, with one phone call, she would suddenly be at death's door.

"Not at all," Alfie answered honestly.

"You're not using up your children's college money on this, are you?" she fussed quietly.

He shook his head, "Claire could explain it better, but basically, if my family continues to play their cards right, the kids are set for college for the next five generations. They'll never go hungry, and the only reason Melody doesn't have a pony in it's own private stable is because Claire said she'd have to clean up after it, and she didn't like that idea."

Amelia gave a small smile before a sad look took over her eyes, "Will I get to meet her sometime?"

"That's entirely up to Claire," Alfie answered as a matter of fact. He already knew the actual answer was 'never.'

A short time later, he steadied her as they walked into the building. It was warm and inviting, but also small and quiet, if quiet carried the intense weight of impending death. It took hardly any time at all before they were shown to her private room. One of the employees had accompanied them, and provided Alfie with some final paperwork that still required his signature while answering as many questions as Amelia had to ask. Alfie had even insisted on getting Amelia to lay down when she started looking faint, and helped her unpack.

The employee had done her best to make it seem as though the facility carried the latest and greatest of everything, and Amelia, with hardly anything to compare to, believed it as Alfie played into the rather ridiculous claims.

Before he realized it, three hours had passed, but Amelia was well settled in. She was back on her feet again as he began preparing to leave.

"Will you call when the baby's born? And do you know if it's a boy or a girl?" she asked conversationally.

"Probably not, I'll be busy taking care of Claire," Alfie answered distractedly as he checked the time on his phone.

"Well, maybe after the baby's born Claire would want to visit me, I miss her... And I know she can't hate me completely with the two of you going to all this trouble to take care of me."

Alfie shook his head, "Amelia, this is only happening because it's a family obligation. That's it. There's just too much bad blood there."

Amelia nodded, looking down at her hands, "Well, I appreciate it all the same... I don't think in my whole life anybody's ever taken care of me like this, and I'm just so grateful for it."

"All right, you have Crowley's number in case you need anything, and he'll be stopping in to check on you at least once a month. All of your expenses have been taken care of, and there's a large stipend set aside for anything else. Any medical updates, they have me listed as your next of kin, so no stress on Claire... It looks like you have everything you need. Oh, wait..."

Amelia watched as he crossed the room to the couch and opened the backpack he'd brought with him. He retrieved a framed photo and presented it to her. The photo was of Claire, with a wide, genuine smile, holding Melody on her lap. Melody was laughing hard enough to scrunch up her face. It was a perfect photo, in his opinion, and evidently in Amelia's too, as just looking at it made her eyes threaten tears.

"I just wanted to give you that, something to hold onto in your last days, you know, maybe bring you some comfort, and show you what a real mother looks like. A mother who'd never let some sick bastard rape her child so she could keep getting high."

Amelia looked up, startled by his words as Alfie shouldered his backpack. She was shaking already, and began to shake her head as well, but he didn't give her any time to piece her words together as he made for the door, resting his hand on the knob.

"Claire still cries in her sleep, you know... She cries, and sometimes she screams, and every single time, I try to picture what the fuck you were doing while it was happening for real, why you didn't stop it... But even worse would be what you were doing the second time."

"I don't have any excuses, I-" she began to stammer.

"No, you don't. You're going to live with what you've done, and you're going to die with what you've done, and then you can tell your side to whatever God judges you. But I'm not sure what happens after death, and I have no guarantee you'll suffer, so I hope to keep you alive as long as possible," he said, closing the door behind him. It was a gross exaggeration, but well deserved.

He paused close by the door as he listened for the possibility of her trying to catch up to him, but his ears were met with the far sweeter sound of her disconsolate sobs working up to a small wail. As far as he knew, it was the only picture she had of her daughter and granddaughter, and he had just ruined it for her, turning it into a constant reminder of the most horrifying chapter of her addiction, and at the same time, turning her beautiful private room into a prison cell.

Satisfied, he walked away with a smirk.

* * *

** Now **

* * *

Kevin hurriedly signed in and printed out his visitor sticker, applying it carefully to his shirt in place of a name tag, and made his way to the nearly empty classroom to find that Margaret had already arrived.

Passing the desk where the teacher sat, a late middle-aged man with a pot belly and a receding hairline, he slipped into one of the child-sized chairs and gave a small wave to motion the man to continue speaking despite his interruption.

"...And as such, it becomes a distraction. That distraction takes time to correct, and so it would be easier if Michael could simply choose to wear something a bit more traditional."

"Traditional?" Margaret asked, "Jeans, t-shirt, and sneakers aren't traditional?"

"I have no problem with the jeans and sneakers," the teacher answered, "But it has to occur to you that when your child comes to school with a t-shirt that has a cartoon unicorn on it, he's going to be mocked by his peers."

Kevin rolled his eyes, "That is my child, and he likes unicorns right now. So unless the t-shirt is somehow inappropriate, which it can't be because we got it from the kid's section, you know... Unless you want to try saying pink and purple are gang colors."

"Mr Tran, I cannot control what is taught to the other boys in this class when they are at home. I'm concerned that this could lead to violence further down the line, especially with such an affectionate child like Michael."

"Affectionate? What do you mean by that?" Margaret asked skeptically.

"He's a very friendly child, he's usually patting the other children on the back or giving them a hug, but other than the frequency, it's all perfectly appropriate. But when combined with the way he dresses, you can see how that might make a few of the other parents uncomfortable."

Kevin was chuckling before he'd finished speaking, only to get a small backhand in the upper arm from Margaret, "There is nothing wrong with a little boy wearing a sparkly pink tshirt, and giving his friend a hug. If the other parents have an issue with it, you can give them my number."

"Mrs Tran-"

" _Miss_ Danes."

"Ms Danes, the issue is this - what is going to happen when he gets to middle school, and this is still the norm for him?" the teacher asked, leaning an elbow on the desk, "This is a genuine concern."

"He's going to get his ass handed to him by a bunch of chodes. That's what you're worried about, right?" Kevin asked, "Been there, done that. They pick on everybody, so he may as well just be himself."

"Mr Tran-"

"Mr Caraway, you're looking out for him, I get it," Kevin assured him, "But Mike's a great kid, and nobody has any business telling him to change who he is."

Caraway nodded, then gestured to Kevin's clothing, a loose black shirt which billowed slightly from a smaller vest and dark grey jeans that fit snugly, "I take it you're not exactly strict about gender roles at home."

"At home," Margaret chuckled, "Try 'anywhere.'"

"If I need to come pick him up from school at the end of the day and say hi to the other dads, I'm gonna show up in a dress. Unicorn tshirts won't matter so much anymore, okay?" Kevin suggested, "And as for this, we've gotten a little bored at the salon and decided to start doing outfits inspired by fantasy characters on Fridays to make it fun."

"And who are you supposed to be dressed as?" Caraway asked.

"I'm the Goblin King."

Caraway nodded, "Bowie, right?"

"Always."

Caraway nodded once more, "So, basically, nothing is going to change, but you do feel prepared to handle this on your end, should it become a problem. Is that right?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure he has it covered," Margaret answered, indicating Kevin, "Of course if that doesn't work, we'll adjust. But I've never seen it fail yet."

"Well, I have to say, as an educator, that most of the time when we have parents as young as the two of you are, we don't expect much. Clearly, I misjudged you. I should have known, with a child as bright and easy going as Michael, he must come from a very stable, loving home," Caraway said quietly, "Just try to keep in mind, eccentricity has it's own challenges."

* * *

At Claire's insistence that being off bed rest and taking it easy meant she could swing by the location in town, Claire was at her desk, and glad to have her own office around her once more. Randy could handle things for a while, of course, but she preferred to tackle most things head-on. And Xander being scheduled for the day had nothing to do with it, honestly...

...Yet here he was, having been called into the office to talk.

"Who the hell was there with you while you were watching my daughter?" Claire asked out of nowhere.

"My girlfriend. Why?"

"Because I want to know who my kid's around. And since when do you date anybody?"

Xander scoffed, "God, nobody in this whole family knows shit about this... Look, you never care when Ben has Millie around-"

"I know Millie. I used to have to pick him up from her house after dinner. I don't know this girlfriend of yours, or what she's like, and I could have used a warning. I know you, and I know Jack, but- You know Mel called her 'the tattoo lady that was kissing Uncle Xander,' right? I mean, what the hell am I supposed to think?"

"Fine. Her name is Cora, and we've been dating for about a month, but-"

"Wait, where do I know that name from?"

"She broke the window," Xander answered somewhat sheepishly, "She's the girl that threw up on me at that party that time, and then she came over and threw rocks at me, and hit the window, because she didn't know nothing happened."

Claire gave a confused shake of her head, "And now you're going out? ...And you, well... I mean, I don't want to pry, but, why would she date you if you're not into... well, anybody?"

"Oh, well, that's easy to explain," Xander replied with a healthy dose of sarcasm, his tone suited for explaining to a child, "Sometimes when people are seeing each other, they like a person for who they are instead of just as a new toy to hump."

"So who's she seeing for that part?" Claire asked snidely. At Xander's look of irritation, she continued, "What? If you're gonna be an asshole about it-"

"You're an idiot."

"Okay, I'm an idiot. Did you bring a Jerry Springer guest around my kid?" Claire asked.

"She can look like a Jerry Springer guest if she wants to, that has nothing to do with who she is. And when you meet her, and you are going to meet her, you need to remember that, because if you say anything, I'm digging out that class photo you hate and setting an automatic text to send it to you every hour of the day."

Claire went quiet and fiddled with the pen in her hand, "So... You finally got a real girlfriend? ...You know, Ben was sure you'd slept with Liz, but I told him-"

"Yeah, well, that happened. Sort of... It's not important."

"Okay," Claire drew the word out, "I mean, he thinks you were messing with him, I guess that's my fault, but it shut him up, so I wouldn't mention it now... When are we meeting her? And do we need to board up the windows?"

"Don't be a bitch," Xander replied in a pleading tone.

"Sorry. Yeah, okay, when are we meeting Cory?"

"Cora."

"Right, sorry. I'll learn it, I swear."

Xander shrugged, "I'm going to bring her to a party, everybody's going to meet her then."

"A party?" Claire asked, as Xander was shifting in his seat and becoming overly cryptic.

"I can't really say what's going on right now, okay? It's just that something is up, it's in the works, and there's going to be party."

"For who? And what kind of party?"

His hands flew into the air, "Dude, I can't tell you!"

"Yeah, well, I have a kid coming out any time, so when's it going to happen? I have to plan this stuff!" Claire insisted.

She watched as his large frame seemed to vibrate in the chair, bursting with information and impatience, "I swear to god, Claire, if this leaves this room, just, okay, not a word. At all. Ever. Okay?"

"Yeah?" she answered, waiting patiently as he'd gained her full attention.

"Okay, um... So, for a while there, Ben was thinking maybe he was just, I guess, at that point with Caitlin, except she was just using him, and anyway, he asked Dad for Lisa's ring. Well, me and Jack, we didn't exactly talk him out of it, or tell him not to, but, kind of... Well, we had some questions, and I guess he figured out she didn't actually care about him that much. Anyway, it's really weird, and short notice, but once he and Millie figured out what got weird in the first place, everything just kind of went back to how it was, only they're-"

"Oh my god, are you serious?"

"What?"

"Ben's going to ask Millie?"

"Um,-"

"But it's only been a couple months! Wait, does this mean that he already did? Is the wedding the party?" Claire demanded.

Xander shook his head, rubbing one temple with the heel of his palm, "Stop! God, stop talking! I'll tell you, just shut up! ... He's not proposing to her, not after all that shit with Caitlin, I was trying to tell you, he's scared off of commitment for a while, and she's just moving in! It's a freaking barbecue, for fucks sake!"

"They're moving in together? ...That's still a little soon."

"Whatever, you moved in with your boyfriend and you were only nineteen. They've known each other since Ben still had the cast on his arm."

"That's different-"

"No, it's worse. Don't try to explain relationships to me, I'm not an idiot. Statistically, Ben and Millie have a better shot now than you did when you got married. I pay attention, okay? And just because you and Alfie are some kind of freaky co-dependent version of almost-healthy doesn't mean either you guys or them have a better chance at sticking together, it's all bullshit, okay? Each case is unique, and none of it matters once you're dead."

Xander regretted the words the moment he realized they'd left his mouth, but the guilt in the pit of his stomach only grew under Claire's rather intense gaze. "When I'm dead?" she asked softly.

"That's not what I meant, I meant like in a hundred years, none of us are gonna be alive anymore, I didn't mean to bring up any of, you know, that-" he gestured to her swollen belly, "Stuff. I mean, you're doing better all the time, you're gonna be fine, I misspoke, and I'm sorry... What do I have to do to make you not cry?"

"Get out."

"And you won't cry? Or you _are_ going to cry, and-"

"Out."

"No! Not until you're pissed off at me enough not to cry, because if you cry in front of Randy, everybody's gonna know I fucked up," Xander insisted, "Do you have any idea how risky that is for any of us guys with you being the only girl around here? Not to mention if Dad comes down here, shit."

Claire leaned forward with her elbows on the desk, a smirk beginning to play at the corner of her mouth, "Go rotate the tires in bay two, and then you're going to detail my car, and we'll pretend this never happened."

Less than thrilled with the extra task set before him, one he was sure he wasn't going to be paid for, either, Xander launched himself out of his seat and was soon at the door, but before hurrying through it, he turned half way to face her, "Hey, you know, if something did happen, just, we'd be there for your kids, you know? No matter what."

"Yeah, I know," Claire assured him, "And it makes it a little easier to sleep at night."

Nodding, and with nothing left to add, Xander left quietly.

* * *


	48. Chapter 48

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: Okay, pretty sure the chapters are in order with no extra ghost chapters clinging to the story that didn't load right. Everything looks okay. Sorry if anyone got all happy and then let down by notifications that I'd updated. Ch45 was where things went sketchy, it was early morning following Claire's trip to get checked out on Sam's suggestion that wound up with stress causing her to be put on bed rest, and opens with Margaret waking up to find Melody - who was sleeping over and seemed like a semi-normal occurrence - had climbed in with them.
> 
> And now here we are, Ch48. Booyah! Okay, quick WARNING!!! - Blood is mentioned, somebody had a hard time seeing a surgery happen. For the love of crap, please take care of your wellbeing and don't read things that may damage you in some way. If for no other reason, please respect my wishes that I do not want to be a catalyst for unhealthy behavior in others. I am here to entertain you, not hurt you... I know, that seems counter-intuitive, given the MCD warning... Anyway...
> 
> THANKS FOR READING! FW)

* * *

Cas drove home, looking forward to a more relaxed evening. The holidays seemed increasingly awkward this year, and Garth was soon replaced with a former law enforcement officer with an odd accent and the personality of a walking marshmallow. So far, she had been good at her job, but something about Ms Hanscum grated his nerves... Several things, actually. But at least she was better suited for working with young teens.

He'd barely pulled onto the gravel road when his phone began to ring. He waited until he'd reached his usual parking spot before hitting the button, "Hello?"

"Hey, come pick me up," Claire's voice came through, "Alfie's in town, so I'll call him on the way, and he can meet us there."

"You're in labor?" Cas asked.

"Maybe. Anyway, I saw your car from the window, I'm not supposed to drive myself, and the faster I get over there, the faster they can get stuff ready."

Cas put the car into reverse, "Please tell me you haven't been waiting."

"Nope, just got off the phone with the doctor, he said head in, and then I saw your car. I figure we can drop Mel at the shop, and head out."

The car swung easily into the open parking space closest to the door, and Cas hurried inside without stopping to knock, ending the call on his phone, only to find Claire on the upstairs walkway making her way to the top of the stairs while Melody began arguing about putting her shoes on.

"Just put them on, we have to go," Claire insisted.

"They're too tight!" Melody protested, dropping to the floor. It was clear that the upset in routine had more to do with her reaction than the shoes.

"Fine," Claire answered, shaking her head and starting down to the door.

Melody responded angrily, "You don't get to go without me!"

Claire shrugged, "I'm going. You're going to the shop to hang out with Grandpa."

A loud, angry, and given the context, somewhat pitiful sound came from Melody's enraged face as she collected her shoes and carried them toward the door. Cas picked her up and carried her to the car as Claire settled herself carefully in the passenger seat, tilting it back.

"I don't have her other seat, it's in Dean's car," Cas started.

"Strap her to the roof, I don't know. We're only going to the shop," Claire replied through a wince.

Cas fastened a seat belt across Melody just the same before getting back in and starting the vehicle down the gravel road as gently as he could manage, "Once we get out on the highway, you'll need to be buckled, you know."

"Get Blake to punch you in the gut while you're in there so you'll know what I'm going through," Claire answered sardonically.

Parking carelessly in front of the shop, he pointed past the corner, "The tow truck's gone. If Dean's not here, do you want to take Melody with us?"

* * *

Lucas sat quietly behind the desk, eyeing Melody, who sat on the edge of the couch, swinging her legs and kicking her heels against the bottom of it. Her shoes sat on the cushion next to her, and aside from the thumps from her feet, the room was quiet. He wasn't exactly a fan of children, despite regularly acting like one, and had only agreed to keep her alive for a short time until Dean was back.

"You need to put your shoes on."

"No."

"I'm serious, Melody. Put your shoes on."

"I want Grandpa."

"Grandpa isn't coming back until your shoes are on."

Melody shot him a rather obstinate look as her legs stilled, and her resemblance to her mother triggered something in him, causing him to turn his attention back to the screen. He was pretty sure he'd seen that look from Cas at least once, as well. A thump startled him, and looking up, he found one of the shoes had been thrown and had landed in the middle of the open area of the desk.

"Were you trying to hit me with that?" Lucas asked, "Because I'll stick you in the pit and pull up the ladder, and you can just hang out in a hole until Grandpa gets here."

She slid off the couch with no show of emotion as she cooly walked over to the desk and retrieved her shoe before returning to the couch. He watched her with suspicion as she sat down once more, setting the shoe behind her, her legs still. Cautious, he turned back to the keyboard, satisfied that his threat had been effective.

A thump echoed as one of her shoes fell to the floor, and Lucas rolled his eyes, raising his voice as he spoke, "I swear to god, kid! If you don't-"

"Dude," Blake said quietly from behind him, "Relax, she's bored."

Lucas huffed, "She's not bored, she's waiting. She's a little scorpion with pigtails, just a tiny version of Claire with no self control or respect for anybody. Probably spits poison when nobody's looking."

"She's little. You can't handle a little kid that still needs her nose wiped?"

"Little barefoot tyrant," Lucas muttered.

Blake shrugged one shoulder and turned in place, calling to the couch from the bookshelf, "Melody, can you please put your shoes on? Your grandpa's going to be inside in a minute, he's unloading a car."

"I wanna see!" she replied, reaching for her shoes and putting them on clumsily.

"When you're bigger, you can. Right now, you wait inside where it's safe," Blake answered as Lucas turned the chair to send him a look of questioning irritation. Blake shrugged, "My mom ran a daycare."

"Yeah?" Lucas asked with an exaggerated smile, earning a small nod from Blake, "Then why the hell did they dump her on me instead of you?"

Blake started to speak, but heavy footsteps in the hallway suddenly spurred Melody into a run toward the garage, and Lucas scrambled out of the chair in an attempt to stop her. The amount of energy contained in her small body was unfair, and she passed him easily, but he gave in upon seeing she'd bolted for Dean.

"Hey... What's up? Did you come to work with Mom today?" Dean asked as he picked her up.

"Nope," Lucas called, sitting back down into the desk chair, "Got to be about that time, and Cas drove her, since Alfie's already in town. They just stopped over here to drop off the homunculous first."

"I'm not a 'monc-a-lus!" Melody argued.

"You are," Lucas insisted, "I checked in the dictionary, and there was your picture."

"I will throw both my shoes at you!" Melody declared angrily with a scowl that seemed to take over her entire body.

"Hey, not okay. We don't throw shoes at Lucas," Dean chided, "What are you supposed to say when he gets like this?"

"Butter knife."

"That's right," Dean chuckled, turning to Lucas and jerking a thumb towards the garage.

* * *

"I don't mean to pry," Cas said softly as he drove, "But how fast should I be driving?"

"The speed limit is fine. I might not even be in real labor, but I'm far enough along, they said to just assume it's real, head in, and we'll get it over with."

Cas nodded, checking his mirrors, "Shouldn't you have a bag of things you need?"

"It's been sitting by the front door for a week. Don't worry about it, I won't need it tonight."

"I can run back for it," Cas offered.

Claire was silent as she shook her head, and with a glance in her direction, Cas realized a tension had been growing in her voice, pulling it tight as she battled her emotions.

"Well, maybe after... Once the nurses tell me to go home, I'm sure I'll have the time... Claire?"

She nodded vigorously as she wiped away a tear, "I'm fine. I'm gonna be fine, I can freak out later when I'm stuck in bed recovering, but for right now, I just need to get through this."

"It's perfectly reasonable to be scared," Cas assured her, "It's surgery, and birth, and... it's understandable."

Even before he'd finished speaking, Claire had tightened her grip on the arm rest and took a few deep breaths to quietly pace herself through a contraction. He made the turn into the hospital parking lot as gently as he could before pulling up to the emergency department doors. He spotted Alfie waiting near the entrance as he guided the car to approach the doors.

"Dad," Claire's voice carried a squeak, "Do me a favor? ...Don't let Alfie know I'm scared as hell right now. They're gonna knock me out anyway, and then it won't matter."

The combination of fear, determination, and pain in her voice crushed him, while at the same time he certainly understood and admired her desire to shield her husband from any further concern, given that the two of them already had plenty to worry about, "I won't say a word."

He stopped the car outside the door and Alfie quickly had the car door open, helping Claire out gently, "Are you okay to walk? Do you want a wheelchair?"

Claire shook her head, "I'm fine, I can walk."

Alfie's anxiety was evident as he turned to Cas, unsure what to ask or say. Cas gave him a nod, "I'll find a space and be up shortly. You just take care of her."

There was a reassurance is Cas' voice even as he gave the gentle order that he knew it was completely unnecessary. His son in law didn't deserve half the crap he gave him, he knew, even if he still felt compelled to dish it out. Claire was happy and safe with Alfie, and Alfie worshiped the ground she walked on, which, in Cas' opinion, was exactly how it should be.

* * *

Melody was less than enthusiastic about her dinner, despite Dean doing his best to recall all his old tricks for macaroni and cheese, things Sam had enjoyed thoroughly as a child. She'd been half way through her bowl when she looked around the kitchen, "When is Pop-pop back?"

"Uh, after the baby comes out," Dean answered, "Then he's going to wait for a little bit, and then he'll come home."

"After bedtime? Or tomorrow?" she asked.

"Well, maybe a little after bedtime, but it's your brother's birthday, so you can stay up. Maybe he'll send a picture so you can see the baby, and then we'll go to the hospital tomorrow so you can meet him."

Melody seemed to think it over as she took a few more bites before stopping to look up at him once more, "How come Daddy gets to be there and I don't?"

He considered his answer carefully, well aware that at nearly four years old, there was bound to be mixed feelings regarding the new baby's relationship with her parents, and stalled with a nod, "Um, because, uh... Because that's a thing that mommies and daddies do together. It's very important to them that your dad gets to be there, it's going to help your mom stay calm, and then he can hold the baby for a while until she's awake and ready to feed him. You know, when you were a baby, they did a lot of stuff to take care of you together. Usually, that's how families grow."

"But I'm big now, and they don't have to take care of me?"

"They still take care of you, it's just that, you know, you can walk and talk and feed yourself, you go to the bathroom by yourself, the baby can't do that, he's going to need a lot of help until he's big enough to take care of himself. And you're going to be part of that, being a big sister is an important job."

"No it's not," Melody answered, "I don't have one, so it's not important."

"What? No... Look, somebody has to be the older kid, okay? I know about this, because Uncle Sam is my baby brother. I was a little older than you when he was born, and even though he's a grown up with a job and house and a wife and kids, I still look out for him. And he looks out for me, too. That's how family works. So you're bigger, tougher, and stronger than the baby, you need to watch his back, don't let anybody pick on him. Then, when he's bigger, he's going to remember every time you helped him out, and he's not going to let anybody pick on you, either."

"Why would somebody be mean to a baby?" she asked, a crease forming between her concerned brows.

"He's not going to stay a baby, he's going to get bigger. And he's going to have times when he runs into mean kids, and they might be bigger than him, but they probably won't be bigger than you. And when he's all grown up, he'll probably be bigger than you, like Ben and Xander are bigger than your mom. You know, she's older, and she used to boss them around, and protect them, and now they're all grown up, they'd never let anybody mess with her, or with you. But you're tough, so I know you're gonna do a good job."

"Did your mom and dad still take care of you when your brother was born?" she asked.

An old heartache echoed through him as her question struck him hard. She had no idea that his mother had passed before Sam had even been a year old, the stressors of caring for a motherless baby likely bringing about the original round of neglect from his father that later turned into violent abuse. Now, he knew as he looked his granddaughter in the eyes, was not the time for the truth. Hopefully, she'd never know.

"Of course they did," he lied, telling the child what she needed to hear, knowing that for her, it would be true, "My mom or dad would tuck me in every night, read to me, and my mom always packed my lunch for school. Then, when Sam was bigger, I'd put him up on the counter, and he'd get the cookies off the top of the fridge. Teamwork."

A shadow of his past weighed heavily on his shoulder, a heavy hand in the same place his father would squeeze when they were in public. John hated lying, and the squeeze was a reminder of the beating Dean would receive at home, unavoidable. He tried to manage a smile as Melody took a large bite of her dinner, but faint whispers in John's voice echoed in the dusty corners of his mind, circling ghosts in horrible rooms he kept locked away. The bruises, the bone fractures, cleaning up the empty cans and bottles through the pain the next day, Sam trying to sneak him food, and all of it slithered away back into the ignorable recesses of old trauma as Melody tipped her bowl toward him to show that it was empty.

"I'm done."

"Awesome. Pie time."

* * *

"Cas?"

He raised his head quickly from where he sat in the waiting area, checking his phone for what felt like the millionth time, and a jolt of fear ran through him until the nurse quickly smiled, "Everything is fine, mom and baby are both doing great," his fear quelled somewhat, "She's not awake yet, but I think your son in law could use a little support, so he asked me to bring you back."

Nodding dumbly, Cas got to his feet and followed after her, "My daughter's fine, though, right? There were no complications?"

"I can't really say much, you understand, but everything went well. She should be waking up soon, no need to rush it, and we've already moved her, dad, and baby into the recovery room." The woman led him to a door, and tapping on it quietly, she opened it wide.

Claire was unconscious in the hospital bed, an I.V. in one arm, and her belly was far less pronounced. An empty bassinet sat at the foot of the bed, labelled with details Cas couldn't focus on, as on the couch below the window he spotted Alfie, looking somewhat shaken, with the swaddled newborn on his lap, the baby's head at his knees. Had Alfie looked up, Cas would have noticed red rimmed eyes, but that was to be expected, given the emotion he'd shown at Melody's birth.

Cas approached quietly, unsure how awake the baby was likely to be, and took a seat on the couch next to Alfie, getting a better look at the milky blue eyes of the infant, "Was the ultrasound right, then? He's a boy?"

Alfie nodded, "Yeah... He was over eight pounds, can you believe that?"

"I can, actually. Claire was roughly eight and a half," Cas said softly.

Alfie nodded, still staring at the baby, who seemed to be looking around dazed, "...I shouldn't have looked... I mean, even when they put her under, and they strapped her arms to these side-board things, you know, I was doing okay, but then... It was a lot to see. I thought that with all the medical stuff I've watched, things like that, I could handle it, but it's different, because it's her, you know? Birth videos, even c-section videos online aren't the same thing as somebody cutting into your wife while she's too drugged up to know... I should have stayed in the corner or something."

"You realize, you're even now? You missed the last birth, but she missed this one," Cas suggested, giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

A small movement at the foot of the bed caught both their attentions, and Alfie took meticulous care as he attempted to hand the baby over to Cas in order to stand.

"Yeah, maybe we'll both be there, and awake for the next one," Alfie said, getting quickly to his feet.

"Next one?"

"That's what she said a couple of weeks ago, so unless she changes her mind, yeah. We might have one or two more, maybe."

Cas attempted to hide a rather stunned look by bringing his gaze back to the small, yawning bundle in his arms, "I never pictured Claire as the type to want a large family."

"I'm not complaining, I love my kids, and god knows I want her to be happy, I just hope we can space them out a bit more after this," Alfie replied, too strung out the take into consideration who he was speaking to. Cas was still staring at the newborn as he heard Alfie speaking softly to Claire, who was starting to come around. The murmurs in response gradually became clearer, and Alfie soon returned to the couch to take the very serious-faced lump of baby to Claire.

"I have to help her get turned so she can feed him without pushing on her stitches, so-"

"I should go," Cas answered with a nod, getting up and catching a quick look at the card in the bassinet as he went for the door, "Just keep me posted what time you want us to bring Melody tomorrow."

Alfie nodded and adjusted the baby to be a bit more upright, likely to get him as awake as possible as Claire rubbed clumsily at her face with the hand that didn't have a tube attached.

"Claire?" Cas asked, waiting to see that she was actually cognizant, and receiving a look that seemed blurry and disoriented, "Congratulations, dear. I'll be back tomorrow."

She gave a nod through the haze, and a small wave, shortly preoccupied with her new baby, and avoiding pressure on the incision as Cas slipped out of the room. He made it only a few feet before a partial smirk snuck onto his face, firmly refusing to go anywhere. He stopped at the nurse's station to remind them to call him should Claire have any complications where she'd need blood, and was reassured that if he didn't get a call in the next two hours, he wasn't likely to be called at all. He made his way home, still on a high.

Of course he would have been just as excited over any new grandchild, but despite this risks this one had posed to his daughter's health an safety- no fault of the baby's, yet still an annoyance in the back of his mind - this had been different. It was different since she'd been told the gender during an emergency ultrasound due to bleeding. It had been different since months ago, when a simple conversation had come up over a game of cards, and she'd asked to borrow something, tell him he probably wouldn't mind at all.

She was right. He didn't mind. He hadn't minded when she'd asked, and after a surreptitious double-check at the name listed on the bassinet to be sure they hadn't quietly changed their minds, he felt it was well enough confirmed.

Cas would have been plenty overjoyed just for the fact that his daughter was alive and well, the baby, his first grandson, was alive and well, and that Alfie was dedicated to caring for them both. It would have been plenty, as he walked in quietly to find Dean watching a football game with the sound low, and Melody asleep in the crook of Dean's arm, not a far cry from the same place Claire had been one evening, many years ago in the same chair, recovering from mild hypothermia, and having his heart suddenly skip a beat at memories of Dean sharing and alleviating what pain he could. But this added bonus must have shown through, and in fact, he was beaming.

"So," Dean said quietly, having gotten a look at Cas' face, "They went ahead and used your middle name, huh?"

"They did," Cas confirmed, "And James is a big, healthy boy."

"How long until that grin wears off?" Dean asked quietly.

"Don't spoil it for me, by the time I had any sons they were already named a decade prior. I couldn't very well pass a family name on to Claire."

"You kind of did, though, now there's a new bunch of Novaks running around."

"That was unintentional, and likely only due to Alfie's issues with his own parents. This was far more intentional, and if I'm being completely honest, I'm honored."

"Right, well," Dean said quietly, shifting Melody's sleeping form to carry her upstairs, "Be honored quietly, you know she's got a lot to adjust to, no need to make it any harder."

* * *

Claire was vaguely aware of hushed voices around her as woke. The night had been a rough one, even without having to sit up or even move much. She recalled swearing at her husband during a moment of intense pain, at which point he'd offered to ask the nurses for a bottle of formula rather than put her through the awkward juggling and angling to feed the baby, but she'd then threatened to kick him out of the room. She wasn't exactly proud of her behavior, but given the situation, no one would dare blame her for it.

Opening her eyes, she spotted Kevin giving Alfie a playful punch on the upper arm as Alfie quietly left the room. Kevin then circled the bassinet to get a better look at James' face, leaning over it and talking quietly, and from the motion through the clear plastic, it was evident that James was already awake. Internally she cringed, knowing he'd need another feeding soon.

"Hey, buddy! Look at you! You just bust right out of there, huh?"

"Kev..."

Kevin turned his head, slightly surprised to see Claire was waking up, "Hey, thought I'd fill in for him while he gets some breakfast. They don't send up trays for dads, but he didn't want to leave you at the mercy of the nurses. I guess one of them wanted to wake you up last night, and he had to talk her out of it."

"I need some water," Claire said, ignoring his rambling.

"Yeah, okay," he answered, straightening up and looking around for the odd tumbler the hospital had provided, "That's a good sign, actually. All those I.V. fluids keep you hydrated, but if you need extra on top of that, your milk is probably going to come in soon. Then maybe tonight will be a little easier."

"Who told you you could come in here and be upbeat about everything?" she grumbled, pressing a button on the controls of the bed that slowly raised the head to a comfortable tilt.

"James did."

Claire scowled as she accepted the tumbler from him, "Just so you know, I hate your guts right now."

"Yeah, well, somebody cut open your guts and stirred them up, which had to be pretty painful, so that's fine. You do you. But you need anything, and I'm here. At least until Alfie gets back, then I have to get to the salon, but nobody's coming in until ten."

"Melody's coming to meet him today," she said quietly as Kevin took the cup from her and set it down close by, "I don't know how that's going to go."

"You're worried."

"I can't juggle both of them if they don't get along. If it's going to be a lifetime of butting heads, I'm worried I'm not going to want to be around either one of them... I mean, what the fuck was I thinking?"

"Is this the drugs talking?" Kevin asked softly with a hint of a shrug.

Claire shook her head, "I don't know."

"Okay, well, here's what I know, and listen close, because when I know stuff, I'm pretty damn well versed in what I'm talking about... You said at least a couple of times that you were never going to have kids, and then, bam! There's a kid. Right? And look at that kid now. She's smart, and she's assertive, and her mom is in charge of a bunch of big strong guys, which makes it pretty damn clear that not only can she grow up to fix my transmission, she can grow up to tell guys off the football team to fix my transmission. She doesn't see any barriers, and when she does, that bratty behavior that comes out, that's because she sees no reason why she can't have things her way, but if you look even closer, it's that she thinks if she works hard enough, she can have things her way, that's why she pulls that crap. So, new little brother over here, yes, he's going to be getting all the attention for a while, but he's helpless. She's not helpless, and she doesn't want to be, so there's not that much competition. After he gets bigger, she's going to boss him around, but she's a loving person, too, so she'll look out for him."

Claire gave him a less than impressed look, "And what about the next one?"

"Next one?" Kevin gave a surprised blink, "You guys are talking about another one? Dude, that's a huge difference from 'I can't have kids, I'll screw it up.' You get that, right?"

"I'm an idiot for having any in the first place."

"Bullshit. You're a great mom," Kevin insisted, not noticing the nurse who slipped into the room at he sat down on the edge of the bed, "And as long as using your kids for drug money sounds like a bad idea, you're okay."

A squeak of discomfort caught his attention and he turned to find a smallish woman in scrubs writing her name on the whiteboard by the door, and glancing anxiously at the bassinet. After a moment of awkward silence, and a hint of nervous laughter, the nurse addressed Claire, "Hi, I'm Whitney, I'm taking over this shift for you and, uh, James... Are you the dad?"

Kevin gave a nod toward the very obviously Caucasian baby in the bassinet, "Not this time, apparently."

Stifling a laugh, Claire gave a light kick against Kevin's hip, "Don't make me laugh, it hurts."

"Sorry... No, I'm the godfather, and not like the movie. I don't have a cat, so I'm not allowed to make mafia deals. But I can tell you you need a better conditioner, and I can hook you up with that."

* * *


	49. Chapter 49

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: So, I know, I've had a short hiatus. Still alive, still writing. I will finish this thing if it kills me.
> 
> Several people have mentioned my dialogue skills, well, I wanted to attempt a chunk without anyone talking. I think it went well... And then I empty a buttload of exposition/flashback through a bunch of tearful rambling later, undoing all my hard work... 
> 
> And to think, my minister, in coaching me to lead a church service on Sunday, said today that I am far less wordy than he is... If he only knew. Actually, he might get a kick out of this story, maybe I'll change all the names, publish it, and ask him what he thinks.
> 
> Y'all be well! Hug yourself on my behalf! FW)

* * *

The weekend had finally arrived, Claire had been home for several days and was needing less help as Alfie had fallen into a routine, and the baby's needs had become more predictable. Melody had been of two minds whether she liked her brother or not, but Dean was certain the idea would grow on her. Having scheduled the whole weekend off, he'd been hoping to sleep in, but something, likely routine and stress, wasn't allowing it.

He rolled over to take a peek at his phone, which showed the time to be fairly early for a Saturday, and lay back down. It was clear within moments that sleep had given up on him. He scooted closer to Cas, kissing him softly, usually the best way to gauge when the other man would be likely to wake, and got minimal response. It would be at least another half hour, and Dean didn't feel much like waiting or pushing Cas to wake early for any sort of morning fun, so he started downstairs to start some coffee.

Something itched at the back of his mind, something bothersome. He knew there was a small get-together at Ben's in the evening, but he kept feeling like he'd forgotten something, left the stove on, locked his keys in the car, left a window open, something nagged...

Still puzzling the issue of possible forgotten things, he was at the sink filling the carafe when he spotted a tiny movement through the window, crossing the front yard from the gate to the porch. Suspiciously tiny.

It was early, perhaps his mind was playing tricks on him, but after pouring the water into the machine and starting it, he headed for the front door just to be sure.

The door gave a small creak as it opened, and to the left side of the porch steps, the same place Alfie would take occasionally, the cause of the tiny movement he had indeed seen turned around to look up at him. Melody had obviously dressed herself, as her clothes seemed to be chosen with no thought to colors or patterns, but she had had the foresight to include socks, shoes, and a warm jacket. She'd put on a backpack that was too small to be practical and likely held several toys, and carried her favorite doll in the crook of one arm.

He considered the look on her face, one of irritation and annoyance, one that resonated of Claire, and found only sympathy for the little girl. She'd been displaced as the baby of the family, and it would take some getting used to. He recalled a conversation several years prior while waking up with Cas in the same room where he was still sleeping now, when Cas had confided in him that Claire had said she'd run away rather than live with her mother, and Dean had told him, not in so many words, that his home would be open to her. Of course Melody had a far less practical reason for running away, but he was sure that to her, whatever reasons she had were quite valid, as she liked her parents.

Dean gave a sleepy nod before jerking his head over his shoulder toward the interior of the house in a gesture that clearly meant for her to head inside, and she clumsily got to her feet despite the heavy load in the backpack, following after him.

* * *

Claire woke with a start as both phones in the bedroom chimed within seconds of each other, and reached carefully for her own as not to disturb James.

A text from Dean showed a photo of Melody sitting on a kitchen chair, her backpack hung on the back of it by one strap, and was accompanied by the words, 'Look who came over for waffles'

"Sonofabitch," Claire grumbled as she started to sit up, disturbing the bed enough to wake Alfie.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asked groggily.

"Mel's at my dad's house. Did you lock the doors?"

"Yeah?" Alfie replied, "Wait, does she know how to unlock them?"

Claire shot him a look that was unmistakably dangerous, "Go get her and find out, before I do it myself."

Her phone chimed a second time, as did Alfie's, and she checked it as it was still in her hand. Dean had sent a second message advising them to take their time if they needed to, he was going to attempt to talk Melody out of attempting such adventures in the future. Alfie read the message over her arm and then rubbed at his face before slowly getting out of the bed, "How long should we give him? Or do you want to call him and tell him not to say anything, and we'll handle it?"

"Shit, I don't know," Claire replied in an emotional tone, "Why would she go like that? I mean, is it really so bad that she doesn't want to be here? If she doesn't want to be here, obviously we're screwing something up, or she feels pushed away, or something. And she said she would do this, I thought she forgot, but we had plenty of warning, so-"

"Hey, calm down, you were up half the night, you're exhausted," he replied, trying to soothe her, "Maybe she wasn't trying to run away, maybe she just wanted some extra attention and figured she'd go visit them for a little while. We don't know what she was thinking, and we do know she's got a really independent personality. It's not like she hasn't walked over there a million times with an adult with her, she probably figured it was perfectly safe. And if it weren't for animals and stuff, it would be."

"Great," Claire's voice was strained, "That's perfect, my daughter's going to be raised by wolves!"

Alfie shrugged as he started getting dressed, "Yeah, but, you know, Ben and Xander turned out fine."

"Shut up!"

Chuckling, he pulled on a shirt, "She's fine. And Dean's going to talk to her, he's good at that, and it's not like they're going to encourage it, okay? She'll learn."

* * *

"Whenevers?" Melody looked skeptical.

"Well, not whenever, but, lets say one time every day. That work for you?" Dean asked.

"I can't have a phone."

"There's one in the kitchen that doesn't cost seven hundred bucks when you drop it, you can use that one. I'll put me and Pop-pop's numbers on speed-dial and show you how to use it. Then you can call, and talk to us, and you're still safe at your house. If you're really bored, we might even come over, if it's okay with Mom and Dad."

Dean looked up, throwing a glance past Melody's head as he heard a stair squeak, and at the sight of Cas' state of undress, quickly pointed out the window, focusing Melody's attention while Cas had a moment to gather that she was in the room and hurry back upstairs, "Hey, look, did you see that?"

"What?" Melody asked, looking through the window out into the area that would have been a back yard, had it not been crowded in by one of the stacks, and lined further off by barbed wire that surrounded the ranch.

"I thought I saw a rainbow monster. You didn't see it?"

"What's a rainbow monster?"

Dean kept his voice at a false startle, "They look like a horse, but they have this big horn on their head, and they run around-"

"That's a unicorn!" Melody answered with an uncontrollable giggle.

"No, I'm pretty sure that was a rainbow monster. There's no way I could see a unicorn."

By this time, Cas had come back downstairs, and had a hint of a smirk at Dean's comment, but soon sobered and gestured to Melody with a quizzical look.

"Hey, there's Pop-pop... Melody walked over here all by herself. Apparently nobody told her about that time the snake in her sandbox almost ate her all up, and Claire had to fight it off with a shovel."

Cas shook his head, "It was a rake."

"Right," Dean affirmed, pointing to Cas as he turned back to Melody, "He was there, saw the whole thing. Anyway, as much as you try, you're not as tough as your mom yet, so, you know, no snake-fighting."

"Melody, what's in the backpack?" Cas asked, having gotten a cup of coffee.

"Toys."

Dean raised his eyebrows, "No snacks? I guess you weren't planning to be out for very long. Good thing, though, it would have made snakes hungry, and they would have come looking for you. Coyotes, too."

"I was just going to play over here, and then I was going to go home for lunch," Melody informed them.

"You know that's against the rules, though," Cas replied, "You didn't ask your parents if you were big enough to walk over here by yourself yet, and you put yourself in danger."

"Grandpa made up the monsters, they aren't real."

Dean huffed slightly, "God, I wish that were true. No, kiddo, there's dangerous animals. And sometimes bad guys."

"Bad guys?"

"Uh, yeah. Bad people. Sometimes they come out here to start trouble, steal stuff, and you're little enough, they could steal you pretty easy. You need to stick with your grown ups."

Melody rolled her eyes and turned to Cas, as though he'd have something different to say. She was too young to understand the rules, only that she had broken them. He only shook his head.

* * *

Ben and Millie had been preparing for the party for at least a couple of weeks, postponing the original date to make it more likely that Claire would be able to attend. The category fell somewhere between a barbecue and a very, very late housewarming party, but the intention had been to fill the house with family members and close friends, getting everyone used to the new place at once.

Of course there were likely to be a few hiccups along the way, but Ben had been expecting something along the lines of running to the gas station for more ice... Not the spectacle the evening would be remembered for years down the road.

He was still a little skittish about Millie's parents and grandmother, but none of them had had anything to say to him regarding her moving in with him. Nothing negative, anyway.

Sam and Jess had arrived a bit early, having misjudged traffic, but Millie was soon showing Jess the house as Ben led Sam and his young cousins to the back yard. Expecting Emma, the twins, Eric and Kent, and later on, Mike and Melody, he'd picked up an oversized inflatable bowling set on a whim, thinking it would keep the children entertained.

Dean and Cas arrived together, and soon after, he lost track of who had arrived, but within the hour, the house was bustling, and everything seemed happy. Xander had arrived with Cora at some point, and was making introductions, but having spent plenty of time around the apartment, Cora greeted for him and Millie with hugs and some continuation of a game Cora and Millie had been up to so for some time, quietly and jokingly referring to each other as derogatory feminine slurs, although quietly, as there were children around. He didn't catch what words were used this time, but there was something in Cora's tone that made him wonder, and something in her eyes as she stuck close to Xander, making their way through the crowded living room to the back yard. She wasn't normally the type of girl to cling, far from it. Come to think of it, Xander seemed a bit off as well.

Jack had showed up late, he'd been in contact through text, and brought the extra sodas he'd been asked to stop for, speaking to Millie as he came in. Ben noticed him, but hadn't had a chance to speak to him directly, having been in a conversation with Kevin at the time.

Claire had stationed herself on the couch, getting comfortable with several throw pillows, and was chatting quietly with Margaret and Jess, Alfie had been back and forth fetching her a drink and some of the odd junk food type hors d'oeuvres typical at any family barbecue, when Ben stepped outside to check on the grill. There was a bit of a low patio just outside the back door, and Dean had just adjusted a vent on top of the grill, going back to the patio to sit next to Cas, who'd taken Claire up on the offer to hold James for a while.

Sam and Millie's father were further off in the yard, and looked to be hitting it off and talking shop as the children, particularly the twins, had lost interest in the original use of the bowling set, and were bopping each other roughly with the oversized pins.

Ben leaned against the wall for a moment, briefly considering grabbing another drink, as the grill was obviously not a concern with Dean close by, instead focusing on some tenseness toward the corner of the yard between Jack and Xander as Cora had started back toward the house looking rather upset and moving quickly. Without meaning to, he easily overheard his fathers talking quietly, sure they were paying his presence no mind.

Cas adjusted James' burp cloth on his shoulder slightly, just under the baby's face as Dean sat down next to him, passing him a fresh beer he'd just opened, having two hands free.

"Little interloper stole my pillow," Dean commented quietly, shooting a playful look at the newborn.

Cas watched the older children playing in the yard as Melody flung herself over one of the pins, rolling over it on her stomach and laughing uproariously as she hit the ground in a heap, "Do you ever wish we'd adopted again?"

Dean gave a small chuckle, gesturing to Mike as he caught Melody in the head with the inflatable ball, "What are you talking about? We didn't even try, and we still wound up with Kevin and Margaret."

Ben stole a glance at Cas' face as Cora passed him to go into the house, and found what looked to be a contented smile before his expression became far more serious, "Dean-"

Following his gaze across the yard to where whatever discussion had become far more heated, Ben's stomach lurched as the argument came to blows, and Jack hit the ground. Dean was on his feet in an instant as Sam was loudly telling Melody to stay back, both bolting for the scuffle to pry the two apart. Ben's first instinct was to do the same, but suddenly Cas was passing him James and sending him inside, "But-"

"Take him, Ben."

Ben watched as Millie's father was attempting to herd the children to one side of the yard as Dean, Sam, and Cas, and shortly Kevin and Alfie as well, had hauled Jack and Xander apart, leading them to opposite ends of the house. It had taken both Sam and Dean to pull Xander away as the fight had gone to ground, at which point Dean had started backing Xander away, and Sam had taken charge of Jack. As near as Ben could tell, Xander was enraged, and Jack was loudly trying to explain something. Both were repeatedly hushed and reminded there were children present as James began to fuss, and Margaret appeared at his elbow.

"What the hell is going on? Is somebody hurt?"

"Um," Ben started, "Can you-?"

Margaret nodded, seeing Jack and Xander being led off in separate groups, and took James from him carefully, going back into the house as he left the patio. To his left, Sam and Kevin were strongly encouraging Jack around the corner of the house, blocking any chance of him heading back toward Xander, as Dean and Cas were somewhat more forcefully urging Xander toward the back door of the partially converted garage. Alfie passed him, headed for Dean, only to have Dean send him back to speak to Sam. Conflicted, he gave Millie's father an apologetic look and made for the old garage himself.

"What the hell was that about?" Dean's voice was louder than normal as it bounced off the concrete floor and bare walls, "There are kids around, you take that shit to the front yard! You don't open your mouth, and you don't throw punches! What if one of the kids got in the way?"

"Yeah, but Jack-!" Xander started as Dean cut him off.

"I don't want any excuses out of you! That was bullshit and you know it! Whatever Jack said couldn't have bad enough to throw down in front of the kids!"

Cas seemed less than impressed with the odd state of affairs and moved to close the exterior door behind Ben as the conversation in the living room was starting to take a concerned tone through the interior door.

"Fine! Sorry it was in front of the kids! But that asshole had it coming!" Xander shot back.

"Calm down," Cas insisted, "Whatever this was, there was no reason for violence. Once you've settled down, you two can talk it out, and we'll see what-"

The door opened behind Ben quickly enough that he had to jump out of the way as Kevin ducked inside, "Hey, where are we at?"

"Tell Sam to give us another couple of minutes," Dean replied quickly, shooing Kevin away, and the door was closed again.

"Um," Ben started, stepping further into the room, "Mind telling me what started all that just now?"

Xander gave him a rather angry look and huffed, "Why? You're not going to understand it anyway."

"How about because I want to know what the hell is going on, in my house, no less, that you're killing the whole party over it?" Ben replied angrily.

Dean waved him away, insisting Xander take a seat on an old truck-bed toolbox that had been stored in the room for some time, "You need to get yourself under control. Now, I know you can handle yourself better than this, so when we get Jack in here, you better be ready to do your share of listening. And be glad we aren't in town, where the cops show up whether you and your idiot friend work it out or not."

The interior door cracked open and Claire stepped down into the room, closing the door behind her with an irritated look only seconds before the exterior door opened as well, and Sam came in leading Jack and Kevin.

"Whoa, hold up," Dean said quickly, approaching Claire, "I'm sorry, this, is, um... We need to handle something in here, okay? So help me out and go back inside."

"I just came in here to find out what the hell is going on, why are you kicking me out?"

"Trust me, this is just one of those times. Sorry," Dean said dismissively, gesturing toward the door.

Claire looked around the room quickly, "Are you serious? Huge fight in the back yard, all of you guys have to handle it, and I can't be in here?"

Dean was quickly stumbling over himself for an answer, but Kevin stepped in, gently pressing her back the way she'd come, "I swear, Clairebear, you don't want to know, okay? And yes, it's a guy thing, I heard at least half the story, and trust me, you want to sit this one out. Also, with the amount of testosterone involved, neither one of these geniuses are going to be able to speak freely with a pair of tits in the room."

"You did not just call me-!"

"They're attached!" Kevin insisted, "So, no, not you, and not calling you that, just saying, please, let us treat you like a lady for once, and get the hell out? For us? Our primitive caveman brains have a girl-problem, and your adorable presence is going to make it harder to fix, especially if we have to stop and translate from our native language of grunts for you."

"Kevin, what the hell-?"

"Do you really want to stick around for the dick-measuring contest?" he asked, looking her in the eyes.

Deciding she'd rather take deniability rather than ask if he was being literal about what was to occur, Claire gave in with a shrug and opened the door, heading back inside, "Fine. But you're all assholes."

"We love you, too, Clairebear!" Kevin called after her as she shut the door roughly.

Turning around with an accomplished smirk, Kevin waved Jack toward the middle of the room, and Sam quickly stepped out of the way to let him pass.

"Xander, hey, listen-" Jack started, "Look, man, I don't know what she said, but I just want you to know-"

"You're a complete failure as a human being, shithead. Some fucking friend you turned out to be," Xander cut him off, "You're the one that said I should give it a chance with her in the first place! You're the last person who should have tried to horn in!"

"I was trying to help!" Jack insisted.

"We don't need any help! Okay? We're fine! And you sure as hell wouldn't go up to Millie and offer to fuck her!" Xander retorted, attempting to keep his voice down as Ben's jaw dropped.

Dean turned a serious look on Jack, "That's what you call 'trying to help?' Making a pass at Cora?"

"Yeah, well, he's not, you know, into anybody, so I figured-" Jack started.

Ben shook his head, interrupting, "You figured wrong, Jack. I mean, you live with him, you haven't noticed he's not a monk? Despite, well, y'know?"

Xander gestured almost sarcastically toward Ben, "See? He gets it."

"Yeah, okay, so I screwed up," Jack replied a little too calmly, "But you've always been weird about girls, I just figured maybe I could help you keep her around a while longer. I didn't know you guys didn't have any trouble in that department, what was I supposed to think?"

"It's none of your goddamn business! Or, hell, actually ask a fucking question if you can't stay out of it, so I can tell you to stay out of it!" Xander replied.

"I'm sorry! I'm not trying to mess things up with you and Cora, she just... Yeah, I can't think of a nice way to say it, so I'm gonna shut up," Jack finished lamely.

"No, go ahead," Xander replied, anger flashing in his eyes, "Say it."

"I'm gonna go," Jack said, shaking his head.

Dean stopped him quickly, gesturing to Xander as though to tell him to simmer down, "That's a bad idea. You two are both idiots when you're pissed off, you guys are just going to get back to the apartment and kill each other later."

From an odd corner of the room, Sam chortled, "You'd never guess Jack wasn't one of your kids."

Dean gave a shrug, "Close enough... Anyway, you guys aren't done. And you can leave when you're done. Otherwise, we need a long term strategy, like one of you two leaving town."

Xander got to his feet a little too quickly, startling Cas, who stepped closer on instinct, but eased off a bit as Xander pointed a very accusational finger in Jack's face, "You were wrong. Dead wrong. You know what you said to her, you hurt her feelings, and you're an asshole."

Nodding, Jack avoided his eyes in embarrassment, "You're right. And, okay, even if that was a thing, I get it, I should've talked to you, not to her, not until I knew more about what was going on. I'm sorry. And I'll tell her, too, I'm sorry I even brought it up."

"No, you stay away from Cora," Xander snapped.

"You're not going to let me apologize? Man, she's her own person, okay? I can speak to her if I want."

"Hang on, hang on, hang on," Kevin butted in, "Xander, he's right, he owes her an apology, you can't just shut that door and deny her that, that's controlling. You're not controlling of her, you're protective, right? So you let him apologize, but, you know, there's no reason you can't be right there with her, to be supportive. Nothing bad is gonna come from him saying he's sorry, and she deserves that."

Xander huffed, "And this asshole deserves to get his ass kicked."

Jack shrugged in an aggressive manner, "Okay, how about this, one hit, right to the face? Just to show you I'm serious about how bad I know I fucked up? One punch, give me your best shot, and then we're done. We put this in the past, I apologize to Cora, and then it's over. Deal?"

"That's not-" Cas started with a look of distaste, but Xander seemed agreeable and Ben quickly stepped behind Jack, and before Cas could properly object, Xander struck him hard, Jack went sprawling backwards into Ben, who caught him, and soon had him back on his feet, causing Cas' voice to drop to a mumble, "...honestly..."

Dean shook his okay, "Okay... Are you both done? This is settled? Nobody needs to bring this up again later?"

"I'm good, yeah," Xander affirmed.

"I'm good, too. After I talk to Cora," Jack replied with a hint of a sputter, still unsteady. Ben kept a careful hold of his shoulders and waited a moment before settling him to sit where Xander had been as Xander headed back toward the back yard, with Dean following after him.

Cas half-crossed his arms, rubbing at his face with one hand, speaking to no one in particular, "By this age, this sort of mindless violence as a solution purview aught to have worn off."

Sam chuckled, patting him on the back of the shoulder, "Let it go, man. Dean's got this. You probably wouldn't have thought twice about it if you'd had any brothers."

"Ben and Xander don't duke it out, neither do you and Dean," Cas pointed out quietly.

"We did, though, all the time as kids. How do you think Dean has all these rules memorized? Take the fight where nobody's going to see it, nobody outside of it gets hurt, and when it's time to hash it out, you meet up in the garage, settle it, and what's said stays private."

Cas gave Sam a fairly concerned look, "Something you two learned from your father?"

Sam gave a hesitant shrug, choosing his words carefully, "Even a broken clock is right twice a day, down to the second. So, you know, not to make excuses for the guy, but, this gets things handled fast. And they came to their own agreement, it's not like Dean told Xander to hit him. They decided for themselves, and now they can move past it... And you gotta admit, that was a pretty big deal."

Cas cast a sidelong glance at Jack, where Ben was still speaking to him in irritated whispers before turning his attention to the corner by the interior door where Kevin and Alfie were still observing and processing the event, "Would one of you go get him some ice?"

* * *

If there were a counterpart to the gathering in the garage, unbeknownst to Ben, it was occurring in his bedroom, where Millie had pulled Cora off to when she'd spotted her running mascara. After a few minutes, Jess had slipped in to check on them before curiosity had gotten the better of Margaret, who joined them shortly after.

"Because Jack is a pig," Cora answered some unknown question as Margaret slid the door shut, taking another tissue from the box Millie held, "I mean, it's like all guys are pigs, but some of them are like the little cute ones you keep like a pet, right? And they're smarter than dogs, but Jack was such a dick last night, and then, this morning... God, he's a douchebag."

"What happened last night?" Millie asked.

Cora sniffled loudly from her seat on the bed next to Millie as Jess gestured to the door, "If you're sure you're okay, maybe I should go-"

"No, it's okay, I don't care who knows," Cora said, shaking her head, making her bottle-red hair bounce, "Xander and me were kind of arguing yesterday, and we were at the apartment, because I wanted him to meet my parents, like in an official 'we're dating, and it's been a few months' kind of serious, and he didn't want to because he already knows them 'cuz he played football with my brother, so I was kind of bitchy, and I was gonna leave, right? And Jack-wagon, massive dumbfuck that he is, he goes and takes the trash out. So Xander says he's sorry, but it's like, facebook-official, so no need to announce it, everybody knows, and he's happy just showing up to stuff, but he doesn't want to make a big deal. So I asked him to go bowling with my dad and my brothers and he said okay, he'd do that, and everything was good, but I go downstairs, and this idiot is finally putting this one bag, and like, it wasn't even all the way full, right? He's just now putting the bag in the dumpster, and he comes up next to my car, and... I mean, it wasn't creepy, but that was not a friend-hug, okay?"

"If that's not a friend-hug, that's kind of creepy," Margaret said softly as Cora took a shaky breath.

"No, he does that when I'm single, I never told him off for it before, so, I don't know. It doesn't bother me, usually," Cora explained, "But then he said some shit, like, he said like, he _knows_ about Xander, which, yeah, everybody knows, and that if I needed some extra attention, he'd be able to keep it quiet, and I was like, no, I don't need any fucking attention, not from you anyway, and he said..." her voice shook and rose several notes as the tears began again, "He said, 'it has to be hard, knowing he's not really into you.'"

"Oh my god," Millie gave Cora's shoulders a squeeze, "That's crap. Jack was talking out of his ass, Xander's more into you than anybody he's ever dated."

"No, I know, it's just-"

"That's a really painful thing to hear, even if it's wrong," Jess commiserated with a sympathetic nod.

"Right?" Cora answered with a squeak and finished with a sniffle, "So I went home, but I was still pissed, not at Xander, at Jack, and I knew he was off today, so I waited until Jack would have left for work, and I called Xander, and then when the phone was ringing, I thought, what he's right? I mean, Xander tells Jack all kinds of crap, what if it's true? I mean, it's not, but it could be? And so I was pissed when I started to call him, but as soon as he picked up, I was already crying, and I told him what Jack said, and I said 'is it true? Because if it's true, and you just want out, I don't you to just stick with me because I'm around, right?' And then he wanted to come over and talk, but I thought he was gonna break up with me, so I didn't want to do that at my house, so he talked me into going over there, and I was just, crying the whole way over there because he was trying to talk to me, and he said he couldn't say it over the phone, and..."

"Say what?" Millie asked.

"Um... Well, I thought it was he wanted to break up, right? And I get to the apartment, and I'm telling him, I mean, I know everybody thinks I'm a slut, but-"

"You're not," Millie said gently.

"- I get there, and I tell him I would never cheat on him, and I mean that, I said 'I swear, I would never cheat on you,' and he just kind of shook his head, gave me like, the biggest holy-crap kiss ever, and then he said that he loves me... I mean, I've heard that from a bunch of guys, but... it's the first time I've ever really believed it."

The room went quiet for a few seconds as Cora's tale had come to such a poignant end, and she reached for another tissue, still attempting damage control on the many layers of makeup.

"That's really sweet," Margaret mused, "Sometimes it takes guys a while to build up the guts to drop the L-bomb."

"Yeah. I mean, we've been together for, like, three months as a trial thing, but... Anyway, we were both pissed at Jack, so we went and fucked on his bed."

Jess bit back an involuntary snort at the young woman's bluntness, and started for the door, only to come face to face with Kevin as she pulled it shut behind her.

"Hey, um, is Cora-...?"

"Still crying? Kind of. Might be safe to check whether you're welcome or not," Jess answered, patting him on the shoulder as she passed.

* * *


	50. Chapter 50

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: Still kicking! Slow stuff, I know, I'm hoping to jump along a bit very soon. Thanks for reading! FW)
> 
> [Edit note: Nothing has changed! Just realized there was a formatting error, and paragraphed out a huge block of text! Sorry!]

* * *

At Ben's insistence, and following an apology in the front yard closely monitored by Xander, Jack loaded his still shaky self into Kevin's car as Alfie followed them in Jack's own vehicle.

"So, I guess I kinda killed the party, huh?" Jack asked quietly, "And I suppose I'm in for a talking-to about disrespecting women?"

"Women? No. I mean, technically, you were making yourself available, you weren't pushing for anything, you technically didn't insult her, either. But you went after their relationship, man. You had a bad understanding of the situation, and you made the worst move possible rather than ask your buddy some straight-up questions and pay attention to the answer. There's no harm in learning things, except when you do it like an asshole."

"Yeah, okay, bullshit. How the hell do you ask that kind of a question without being a dick?" Jack asked.

"Shit, don't pin this on me. This was your screw-up."

"No! You're the dating advice guru for us younger guys, if you want to keep your title, you better pony up an example," Jack scoffed, "Unless you want to admit there's no nice way to get into that conversation."

Kevin nodded, pulling into the apartment complex, "Okay. Sure. I'm gonna ask that question, to somebody who's not expecting it, and I'm going to do it respectfully."

The statement set Jack laughing as Kevin stopped the car in a parking space, taking it out of gear and shutting off the engine as Alfie did the same two spaces away, "Oh, shit. This should be worth a few million views on YouTube when he hands you your ass."

"No cameras. Just pay attention," Kevin answered, getting out of the car as Jack did likewise. Jack was still unsteady, and leaned against the hood as Alfie approached with his keys, curious as to why Kevin had gotten out at all.

"Sandman, how long have we been friends?" Kevin asked.

"Long enough that 'Sandman' should be ancient history?" Alfie offered.

"No, seriously. How long, Samandriel?"

Alfie shrugged, "Preschool?"

"Right," Kevin nodded, giving an aside to Jack, "Different classes, though, we have a one year gap. Anyway, a long-ass time. Now, listen, I totally respect the fact that you're with Claire, you guys are just perfect for each other, I mean, I knew that from the start, that's why I kept trying to get you two together-"

Alfie shook his head, "You said, and I remember this very clearly, because it was the first time I saw her, 'go ask her if she wants to watch you suck my dick, and see what she says.' I said no, because I'm not gonna write a check my ass won't cash."

Jack was laughing hard by this point, attempting to keep quiet as not to miss what was said.

"Right, but this is now. So, with now in mind," Kevin continued, attempting a somewhat sly gesture to imply the conversation was for Jack's benefit, "I talk to you guys, both of you, that, or I hear stuff from Margaret, but, I know sometimes shit gets difficult. Like, she's recovering from having the baby, sometimes you're out of town for a few weeks, I'm just curious, and of course asking as a friend, who wants what's best for both of you, and also for your marriage, have you guys ever talked about having a non-monogamous relationship?"

"Have we ever talked about it?" Alfie asked slowly, considering the question as Jack started to bite his lip, "Margaret didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?" Kevin asked, confused.

"Oh... shit..." Alfie replied in a small voice, quickly passing Jack and handing him his keys before getting into the passenger side of the car. Jack lost his composure at the sight of Kevin's confused expression, and continued to laugh as he started for his door.

"Shut up, Jack. You got your example," Kevin called after him.

"Yeah," Jack replied loudly, "But you got one hell of an answer. Damn!"

Kevin popped the driver's side door open, and was half inside as he called back, "Margaret is her own person, and I respect her!"

Dropping into his seat, he shut the door a bit too forcefully, shaking the car, and turned to Alfie, who remained quiet.

"What the hell was that?" Kevin snapped.

"You, asking details about my marriage and sex life that are none of your business, and me, responding in kind," Alfie answered in a bored tone as he checked his phone.

Kevin nodded quickly, "Yeah, okay, fair, however, I only asked a question, you implied something, regarding somebody who isn't even here to defend herself, with the sub-implication that it's funny if I don't know because of the sexist connotations of the ownership of women."

Alfie rolled his eyes, "You spout a ton of bullshit, but I think we both know that you secretly struggle with those sexist connotations and cave to societal pressure, and you have jealous feelings about your partner, same as the majority of the population."

"That is crap! She doesn't belong to me, she's got nothing tying her to me, she's in complete control of herself. She could ditch my ass any time she wants, she knows that-"

"And it scares the hell out of you," Alfie said calmly, "One slip-up, one mistake, and she could just be gone, just like that, without giving you any time to explain, and you're terrified of losing her. So you're ripping me a new one for giving a sarcastic answer to your very not-private and invasive question. Asshat. You think I need the conjoined-triplet of my brother in laws thinking about how often I don't get laid? Hell, I'm surprised you didn't throw in Claire's extra issues as the icing on the cake, tell him I live with some fucked up second-hand abuse, having to explain the bruises to my kid, and having to lie so she doesn't think it's normal or okay, and then turn around and tell Claire everything is fine."

Kevin started the car, tense at the very real problems he'd been aware of from the beginning of his friends' relationship, "Sorry."

Alfie huffed, "Yeah, I bet."

"I am, man. I mean, yeah, everybody has issues, but, you two, you know... You both got more than a fair share," Kevin said softly as he backed out of the space, "Listen, um, I might be able to help you learn some makeup shit so when it happens, it's less noticeable... I mean, kids aren't real observant, but eventually she'll start figuring out you didn't walk into a door... It's not on purpose, though, right? Never on purpose?"

"Never on purpose, no," Alfie confirmed.

Kevin nodded, "You know, if it ever is, if you guys ever need to re-evaluate, hell, anything, you know,-"

"Yeah, I know."

"How's she healing up? I mean, she's out of bed and all, but,-"

"She's in a lot of pain and hiding it, she's frustrated because nursing isn't going as well as last time, and Melody ran away to her grandpas' house this morning, and even though she was planning to be back home in time for grilled cheese, Claire is only thinking about how bad things had to be for her to make the decision to leave her mother, so..."

"Okay, that's a lot for any parent, but it's Claire, which means she's probably feeling completely helpless and useless right now and not coping well, so... What do we do? How do we make this better? Kid-proof the doors?" Kevin asked.

Alfie shook his head, "No, Dean told her about having to kill a coyote, and the size of the snakes out in the yard, and how Xander got hurt, and taught her how to use the landline so she can call instead of sneaking out."

"You have a landline at your house?"

"Cas has a landline at my house. I didn't know, and Claire forgot it was there."

Kevin chuckled slightly, "That's great. Next you're going to be finding hidden rooms and Jimmy Hoffa's body."

* * *

The drive home after the party began quiet, even if it was short, but in the faint light, Cas was certain Dean was hiding a smirk.

"Well," Cas broke the silence as they sped down the highway, circling part of the low hill the ranch occupied, "We've met Millie's parents, and they've moved in. I think that's close enough to modern day 'official.' And we've met Cora... That was... I'm not sure what to think of it, actually."

"What the hell does that mean, 'you don't know what to think about it?' She's nice," Dean objected, "And the fight wasn't her fault. Hell, she turned Jack down, that should tell you everything you need to know."

"She's the one who broke the window, Dean. And at the time, Xander was very clear about having no interest in her."

"And little boys pull pigtails, they grow out of it."

Cas scoffed, "I believe his exact words were that he'd rather put his dick in a box of razor blades."

Dean gave a small shake of his head, "They're fine. Besides, Jess sat in on the girls' pow-wow, apparently it's a bit more serious than them just goofing off."

"She's not pregnant, is she?" Cas asked quickly.

"That didn't come up. But even if she was, shame on you for sounding worried. The kid's not Ph.D material, but he's great with babies and kids, he'd be a good father."

"It's not Xander's parenting skills I'd question," Cas replied wryly.

"That's not fair, Cas. C'mon, who's that one mom who those office ladies were whining about? The one you said wore more makeup than clothes? And then she put the beat-down on her kid and he straightened out? You, of all people should know not to judge people for appearances."

"'More makeup than clothes,'" Cas rolled his eyes, "Glad to know I'm not the only one making the connection."

Dean gave an exaggerated scoff, "So what? I'd take trashy with a good heart over whatever the hell was going on with Caitlin any day. At least Cora's upfront, and puts herself out there. Personality-wise, I mean. It's not like she's hiding a bunch of crazy that'll come out later. She's straightforward about it."

"I suppose that's true. And knowing Xander, seeing how he reacted... He wouldn't care that much unless it mattered a great deal to him."

"Nevermind that the trashy girls keep it interesting," Dean muttered.

Expecting a remark of some sort from the seat next to him, Dean stole a glance in Cas' direction only to find a nostalgic smirk that echoed the one that immediately dropped from his own face.

"Cas?" Dean asked, "Something you want to own up to, before I ask?"

Caught, Cas shrugged, "He was deployed... She was lonely."

"Wait, wasn't she pregnant? That was the close friend you were there for her birth?"

"Yes. But it was his child, certainly. I wasn't involved with her until she was a few months along, and of course that was with his blessing, as I was a clean, healthy source of ...support, it all worked out for the best."

Dean was quiet as he turned onto the gravel road, passed the first gate, and turned the car toward the house. Getting out of the car and fussing with his keys, Cas raised his head as Dean stepped closer to the porch, "This isn't going to be one of those times when you turn sullen and tense for several days, is it? You're awfully quiet."

"Nah," Dean replied, and Cas listened for a hint of overplayed relaxed attitude to the word, "Honestly, I think we might be past that, because now I'm just getting curious."

"Curious?" Cas repeated, finding his house key, and starting up the steps, "How so?"

"Well, the idea of you with a woman, past that bit with the bench, it's just... It's hard to picture. I mean, I've got a couple inches and at least a couple pounds on you, and you get rough - not complaining - but,-"

"You're wondering if I treat you differently than how I treated her," Cas guessed, jiggling his key into the rather fussy lock of the doorknob. It was a bit of a surprise to him as Dean took a gentle grip on his hand and, far better versed with the mechanics of locks, and this lock, specifically, guided the key home at a particular angle before giving the knob a quick turn and letting the door swing open a few inches. It wasn't much of an action, certainly a mundane behavior, yet somehow the firm grip of Dean's hand around his own, especially as it dropped away, stirred something within him, and brought his attention to Dean's eyes in a helplessly expectant manner.

Dean gave a hint of a shrug, "Actually... Just the opposite."

"How is there an opposite to that?" Cas asked, his voice softening as emotions he hardly recognized arose within him.

"Well, you... You usually need a particular mood if I top, but even then, it's still been all about making sure we're having fun, it's not like... I mean, it's not the same as... um..."

Cas tilted his head slightly, more from the unfamiliar and unplaceable emotions intensifying as Dean was clearly struggling for the words to explain himself, "Dean, by now, I would hope you could just come out and say whatever's on your mind."

After a few seconds hesitation, as Dean clearly gave up attempting to put the subject within his mind into a vocal expression, Dean's eyes wandered down the side of Cas' face as he stepped closer, and Cas shifted his weight slightly, expecting either this usual firm peck on the lips before entering the house, or a deeper, rougher kiss that would easily devolve into the needs of the evening being met for them both, but the soft, sweet, gentle kiss that met his lips instead was entirely out of the ordinary. At least, it was out of the ordinary for them.

"Dean, if this is some possessive need to prove something, either to me or to yourself-"

"This isn't like that. Come upstairs with me," Dean replied in a hushed voice.

Something was different. Usually by the time either of them was breathing this heavily, clothes were awry, or someone was getting pinned down, yet Dean wasn't making the move he expected. There was a pleading in his eyes, and somehow, it wasn't for the rough stuff. It was confusing, and intriguing, and in a small, ignorable way, it made him anxious.

It still didn't require much persuasion, and soon enough, they were indeed upstairs.

* * *

Kevin gingerly made his way up the porch steps, hoping, from experience, that he wouldn't have to make much sound before being let in. He gave a tiny rap on the wood of the door, and adjusted the plastic grocery bag in his hand. To his right he noticed the curtain in the large window swing, and a few light quick steps carried someone small to the door. He waited patiently until small, clumsy hands had managed the locks, and the door swung open slowly. Melody, clad in a long sleeved pajama shirt, underwear, and socks, greeted him with her arms raised, carefully toeing the edge of the door frame to avoid breaking the rule about leaving the house. 

"Where are your clothes, kiddo?" Kevin asked, lifting her from the floor. 

"I can't find my princess dress," she answered, as though it were a perfectly justifiable reason for her state of undress. 

He closed the door as quietly as he could, keeping his voice down, "Aw, c'mon, you've got to have some shorts, or a skirt, or a t-rex costume or something. What about that astronaut tutu Grandma Linda made you? Can you find that?" 

Above him on the upstairs walkway, Alfie emerged from the door of the master bedroom, closing it behind him and starting downstairs. Rarely had Kevin seen him in a worse state of exhaustion, although he was clearly aware Kevin had entered the house, "Mel, did you open the door?" 

"I didn't go outside," she answered loudly from Kevin's arms. 

Kevin started to hush her, but she only wiggled to get down before tearing up the stairs to her room as Alfie came down. Alfie gestured to the bag in Kevin's hand, "Is that the stuff?" 

"Yeah, two best brands I know of, in case he doesn't react well to one. I'll hit the kitchen and set one up before I go up there, she'll be more likely to use it." 

Alfie nodded slightly before wrapping his friend in a tight hug that lasted a little too long, and thumped the back of his shoulder as he let go, "Well, it's been nice knowing you." 

Kevin scoffed as he headed for the kitchen, "I don't know what you're talking about, I can talk her into all kinds of stuff. How do you think I got her to go to the prom with you?" 

From one end of the floor above them, sounds came of drawers being opened and closed, and toys being flung from a toy box, while at the other end, much closer, James was set in a long cry, to which Claire could be heard trying to hush him as Kevin worked quickly, and soon stepped back into the living room with a sterilized bottle of warm formula. 

Alfie looked up from the spot he'd taken on the couch, barely keeping his eyes open as Kevin came to a stop, pausing on his way to the stairs, "You tried talking to her about this already, right?" 

"What color flowers you want at your funeral?" Alfie asked sleepily. 

"Wimp," Kevin mumbled before hurrying upstairs. 

"Yeah, but I'll still be alive after this." 

Kevin tapped gently at the wood of the door that sat ajar, pushing it open slowly, knowing he wouldn't be heard over the tiny wail coming from the disconsolate baby in the middle of the bed. Claire was sitting uncomfortably, arranging pillows behind and around her, a look of disgust, self-loathing, and sheer exhaustion on her face. 

"Maybe the party yesterday was a bad idea," Kevin suggested gently, "Did you guys sleep at all?" 

Claire ran a hand through a few stray locks of her mussed hair, and shook her head, "He might have. I kicked him out of here around four." 

James took a weak attempt at a suck on the pacifier Claire tried to get into his mouth, giving only a brief pause in his cry. Stepping closer to the bed, it was clear that Claire had been doing her own share of crying, and her hands shook. Quietly, Kevin offered her the bottle, only to receive a scowl in response. 

"I swear, I will shove that up your ass," she muttered, "That's gonna mess with my supply." 

"Claire, your hormones are out of wack because you had to go the hard route. No full-blown labor, no passive oxytocin boost on the way out, they doped you up, sliced you open, and stirred your guts to get him out. You took the hard road because the hard road was the safe road. Unfortunately, the hard road is a long road, you're still on it, healing-wise, and you need to rest up, you're not done yet. And I've heard it twice now, you're not getting more than a couple drops with the pump anyway, there's no way it takes two weeks to come in." 

It was evident that a fresh wave of tears were building as she tried again with the pacifier, "I was fine last week, by now I should be able to start stocking the freezer, but, hell, I can't even be 'a pair of tits' right." 

"Oh, come on. That's a load of crap, right there, you're a million times more than that. And what do you think this is? It's the second best thing, regulated, and scientifically formulated to feed him," Kevin gestured to the bottle, "It's not like you have to stop trying completely, just take a break, take a nap, and maybe less stress, more rest, and your supply will come back. If not, well, Melody's going to be feeding him worms in the back yard as soon as he can walk, so it's not going to matter." 

Claire was quiet as she rubbed at her face, taking a deep breath, but he spotted a tremble in her shoulders. There was a strained edge in her voice when she spoke, "Am I a bad mom?" 

"You're not a bad mom. You're recovering from the hardest way of doing the hardest thing in the world, and you're still not going easy on yourself, because your child is involved... This is the same thing as working yourself into the ground, digging yourself into a hole..." Kevin glanced down at the bottle, wondering how long the temperature would keep, and shrugged, "Okay, listen, you'll either kill me, or pretend you have no idea. I'm just going to take him downstairs with this bottle you totally didn't see, and we'll see how it goes. Then it's my fault, not yours. And that's fine, Samandriel's downstairs writing my eulogy, so-" 

With the practiced hands of a parent, Kevin leaned over her, lifting the newborn from the bed with the utmost care, adjusting his balance delicately as he stood, and finding no protest from his friend, but a disturbing look of sudden apathy, he settled the baby in his arms. 

"Hey," he said softly, getting her to raise her eyes, "You know you're already at a huge risk for P.P.D., right? Are you charting symptoms?" 

Claire scoffed, "Is there anything he doesn't tell you?" 

"He never said a word about that, but I know you... Get some sleep, okay?" he said as quietly as he could, jostling James to hush him as he moved toward the door. Claire's eyes held a hint of anger, but he made it to the doorway without bloodshed, which he found telling. If he made it downstairs, she probably wouldn't kill him later on, even once she was feeling up to it. There were few enough people in the world that Claire would trust with her children in the first place, and while he was sure she'd never admit to it, she did trust his intelligence, if not always his judgement. 

Alfie seemed a bit surprised as Kevin came downstairs with James, taking a seat close by on the couch. 

"So, when I use the f-word, I'm a jackass who doesn't know shit about breastfeeding, but you-" 

"She was in the bathroom, I snuck him out," Kevin answered quickly, "At least, that's the official story. My fault, my doing, I'm the screw-up... Here, you probably want to do this yourself." 

"But then it stops being your fault," Alfie objected as Kevin started to pass him the baby. 

"Dude, don't let somebody else be the first person aside from mom who feeds the kid, you keep bitching about all the firsts you screwed up with Mel." 

Kevin was sure Alfie would at least take a glance upstairs, but with no more than a shrug, he quickly took James from Kevin's arms, supporting him as upright as a newborn could handle, and accepted the bottle, "Let's see if I remember how to do this." 

* * *

A slow, still calmness hung in the silent bedroom as Cas began to wake, a question of the time passing through his mind like an errant leaf on a breeze. With the realization of the day of the week, it passed, and he mentally settled, only to have his body insist once more that sleep was not currently an option.

He gave an internal eye roll at his bladder dragging him from the bed, only to be stopped on his first attempt at sitting up by a very muscular arm. "Don't get up yet," Dean slurred.

"I'll deal with you when I come back," Cas answered firmly, wrenching his way free.

Dean gave a hint of a groan, not wanting to have the bed to himself, "'s Saturday. Come back."

His body on autopilot, memories of the night before came back in waves as weary legs staggered him to the bathroom. A faint soreness all over, stronger in some places than others, he needed a shower, he realized, and Dean would as well, how many times...?

Lust tinged with a hint of shame even Cas wasn't immune to came rolling to the forefront of his mind as the haze of sleep gave way to nearly tangible feelings of hands, lips, a tangle of flesh and heat, too close too fast, Dean hadn't even had him entirely ready, but had read his signals perfectly. That was the first time. He'd succumbed, grasped Dean's hair, rolling onto his side, small thrusts into the back of Dean's throat had finished him with a whimper. Something akin to a full-body make-out session had followed, he'd been so pliant... No, pliant wasn't the word for it... He'd been high on Dean before, in fact, Dean had been his drug of choice for several years, but rarely was it ever that intoxicating... Dean had insisted there was something he wanted to try, something different, and Cas would have followed him off the nearest cliff. That was the second time. He'd been ready to go for real, Dean had gotten him standing by the side of the bed, braced on the reinforced footboard, it had been fast, but gentle, and, in Cas' opinion, had involved too much lube. As he'd gotten close, he'd kept Dean well apprised, whether he'd meant to or not, and Dean had stood him up, turning away from the bed, keeping him on edge just long enough to time it, pulling Cas along as he dropped backwards onto the bed, the combination of an intense orgasm during a sudden fall making him wonder for a moment if he ever really existed in the first place. And then, well, he wasn't entirely certain how or when the third time had begun, only that it had, Dean was above him, face to face, and a warmth washed through him just to picture it in his mind. It wasn't as though they'd never dropped all plans of desperate fucking just to make love before, but this time, it seemed to be amplified somehow, extra slow, extra emotional, and without a doubt, sentimental.

Cas paused in the doorway on his way back to the bed. Dean was sprawled awkwardly across the bed with no intention of leaving it. His hair had been thoroughly trashed, much like the rest of the bed, and his lips seemed a bit puffy, possibly irritated. A moment came back to Cas, a glimpse of the night before, during the third round, when Dean had intertwined their fingers and brought his lips to the set of rings on Cas' left hand.

Crossing the floor, he remembered a twinge of pain he couldn't place at the time. Having come down considerably since then, however, Dean's bare hands made it obvious what was missing. He climbed delicately onto the bed, resting his full weight chest-first on Dean's back, his chin protruding over Dean's shoulder next to his ear.

"I thought you'd be happy to see me," Dean slurred heavily, not bothering to open his eyes.

"After last night, that could take a few days," Cas whispered, "I'm completely relaxed, for once. I'm not sure what kind of magic spells you were using on me, but they worked."

Dean gave a sleepy chuckle, "Damn good stuff."

The dark purple bloom on Dean's shoulder, and the fading edges of the dates below it caught Cas' eye, and he began to trace the design with a fingertip, a hint of jealously raised at the thought of something so permanent and not as easily lost as pieces of jewelry. His eyes settled on Ben's birthdate, and something in his mind switched gears, possibly finding an opening to the idea in his head, "Have you considered adding the adoption dates to this?"

With a hint of a grunt, Dean turned his head slightly, opening his eyes, "Um... Thought about it, I guess. Never seemed like the time... And no idea what to put with it, like the baby footprints, I mean, what? A pen and paper?"

"A football and a wrench?" Cas suggested with a shrug.

He carefully arranged himself, lifting his weight off of Dean as Dean turned over below him, greeting him with a kiss, which kept him distracted as Dean suddenly took hold of his nipple.

"What are you doing?" Cas asked quizzically with a glance toward his chest.

"There's something you're not saying, because you think I'm gonna take it wrong, but I know what it is."

"There's something...?"

"Yeah," Dean answered, "You know I wouldn't fill it out where the kids are concerned without adding something about you, that's what you really want-"

"I wouldn't ask you to-"

"I'm asking, so shut up," Dean said quickly, "You told me you only got the one done because you didn't trust somebody... Cas, I love you too much to even think about hooking you up to a car battery, and actually... You know, if you didn't trust me, that would just-... That would break me."

"You'd prefer I had a matching set?" Cas asked.

Dean tilted his head with a hint of suggestion, sliding his hands down Cas' body to grip his ass, "It'd be hot... It's kind of weird to go asking somebody to do something like that, poking holes in their body, I know, but, just think about it. It'll give you something to do while I start turning this-.. Well, from an outside perspective, I guess it looks like a jumble of bullshit, into a real half-sleeve, okay? You and the kids, and then it's done. Complete set. Like us."

Cas gave a small nod, "I suppose there's something to be said for completeness."

* * *


	51. Chapter 51

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: Man, GISH was crazy this year! Survived it, though. And my kids soon go back to school, at which point I'll be much more focused on writing[to avoid housework]. Still using my twitter more than my tumblr, but you can pester me at both, same username as here.
> 
> I'm setting up the few lines of vital info for two different, unrelated, non-DRR fics after this one ends. Every time I get the inclination, this is what I'm working on, with the semi-rewrite of I Pray for a shorter dang title as my palette cleanser. I will finish this!! Booyah!
> 
> Thanks for reading, thanks for encouraging me, and thanks for sharing my frustration with these utterly normal characters, they really get on my nerves sometimes. FW)

* * *

At the unexpected sound of the front door, Jack jolted, only to calm himself when Xander closed it behind him. 

"Dude," Jack said, setting the game controller down on the cheap coffee table that had seen far better days, "You scared the shit out of me, I thought you were hiding out in your room."

"Like Ben was going to let me come back over here last night? No, after I took Cora home, I went back over there and broke in their guest room for them."

"Why? I thought we were pretty much okay? I mean, I fucked up, but-"

"Because Ben told me to wait on it," Xander insisted.

"And you just listened to him?"

"Yeah. I know better than to just trust my own judgement all the time. I might be slow, but I'm not stupid," he answered, dropping heavily into a second-hand recliner that groaned below him, "Shit usually goes better when I listen to him, anyway."

Jack seemed less than pleased, "We had this handled, for the most part. Ben didn't need to butt in. We could have talked this out last night. I waited up to try to talk to you. We're friends, remember? I'm the guy that tied your shoes for you for two weeks."

"Don't get pissed at me, you caused this whole thing to start with. Hell, I was almost ready to tell her I love her, and I rushed it, all because she was crying over what you said."

Jack went quiet, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees as he considered the depth of the impact his small suggesting had caused, "I screwed that up for you guys?"

"Just be honest, were you trying to break us up for some reason? I wanna know," Xander asked bluntly. 

"No. And, god, I'm sorry. I didn't know that was a thing with you," Jack said quietly.

"I'm not a fucking robot!" Xander snapped, "Love is a thing, my dick works just fine, and I can have a perfectly healthy relationship with my girlfriend! How is that so hard to understand?"

"Really hard, actually," Jack replied, raising his voice, "Really freakin' hard. Because I have no clue how the hell this works. How is it you're asexual, but you're not _not_ having sex? Isn't that the whole point? But you're sleeping with her, you're in a relationship, you've had girlfriends. It's like you say one thing and do another, what's the point of saying it in the first place if you're not going to stick with it?"

Xander gave him a level look, "If you were dating some girl for a while and she wanted you to put it in her ass, would you?"

Jack shrugged, "I guess, yeah."

"So if you woke up tomorrow and the planet was completely full of men, no women anywhere, and some guy wanted the same thing, would you do that?"

"Hell no," Jack answered.

"Why?" Xander asked, clearly looking for Jack's explanation, "It's the same thing, right?"

"No, because I'm not into guys."

"Too bad, there's no women left. Gay sex or no sex. What do you do?"

Jack huffed, "There's no way I'd be able to keep it up, I'm not into guys."

"Yeah, but maybe you could keep it up long enough to make somebody you cared about happy, right? And if you really got used to it, you might even be able to psych yourself into getting off once in a while, if they really wanted you to."

A look of horror crossed Jack's face, "Are you seriously trying to tell me that's how it is, every time? Like, every time?"

"That's why it doesn't happen very often."

"Then why do it at all, if you're just getting used, getting nothing out of it?" Jack asked, still processing the idea of a complete lack of desire.

"Just because I'm not having any fun doesn't mean she should go without. And after I started getting around, I got a reputation for there being zero pressure with me, which, I guess girls are into, so then there was even more getting around, sex was more about the attention... Whatever, though, I'm done. I'm just gonna stick with Cora, she gets me."

Jack's forehead creased and he gave a small shake of his head, "You psyched yourself into being a slut? Dude... You're like a walking abandonment issue."

"Could be worse. I mean, look at you."

* * *

Late in the morning, Cas joined Dean as he left for the shop, where he was warmly greeted by Mike, who had not forgotten the promise made at Ben's the day before, regarding collecting Melody and going to the largest playground in town. Margaret was already up to her elbows in the filing cabinet, and distractedly shooed them off, satisfied that her son was in good care.

Headed for the larger house down the road, Mike spoke loudly to be heard over the crunching gravel and the sound of the small crane lifting a husk of a car up onto a stack.

"Pop-pop... How come Melody gets a baby brother and I don't?"

"Have you asked you parents why?" Cas asked cautiously.

"Yeah. My dad says we're just a one-kid family, but I still wanna know why."

"It's the parents' job to decide when they're done having children. Your parents made their decision for good reasons, and they're very happy to have you, Mike. They love you very much, and they take excellent care of you. When you're older, they may decide to discuss their reasons with you, but I believe they're very much set on their decision. I wouldn't bring it up again."

Mike hung his head and grumbled slightly, but his sour mood was forgotten as they came into view of the low white fence. Cas spotted Alfie with James asleep on his shoulder through the wide living room window where the curtains had been opened, and instructed Mike to wait on the porch rather than risk waking the baby. He tapped on the wood of the door softly before slipping inside, only to hear some very odd sounds coming from upstairs as Melody, dressed and half-brushed, came down the stairs with a startled expression and a hairbrush in hand. Alfie was craning his neck in an attempt to see, or possibly hear what was going on.

Cas spotted the empty bottle on the coffee table, but while his observance was obvious, he ignored it, "What's happening up there?"

"I'm not sure," Alfie replied quietly, "Kevin was getting Mel ready, Claire was supposed to be trying to sleep, now she's-"

Upstairs, Kevin gave a slight yelp, clearly pained by something, which didn't seem to slow Claire's speech at all. Kevin began to protest over her, although the only words that seemed clear were 'husband' and 'useless,' at which point Cas hurried up the stairs.

Standing just inside Melody's room with her back to the door, Claire, rumpled and exhausted, was doing her best to keep her voice down as she was in the middle of berating Kevin for all he was worth, although Cas couldn't quite make out what she was saying, the words tumbling over choking, frustrated gaps where she'd pause to take a breath. She was certainly shaking with the effort of either keeping herself contained or continuing to stand, possibly both.

"-shouldn't even be in here, why are you in here?"

"Since when?" Kevin asked, "I helped her and Mike clean up a mess in here last month, and you didn't so much as bat an eye. You're in the middle of a panic attack, you're having a hell of a morning, and you need to go back to bed. Now, just, don't fall down, because if I have to catch you, you're gonna hit me. You're not in control of yourself right now."

Kevin caught sight of Cas easily, but as soon as Cas set his hands on Claire's shoulders, he remembered why that was a bad idea. She jumped, turning in place, slamming the back of his hand painfully against the doorframe before backing toward Kevin. Cas grimaced and flexed his hand, but it wasn't nearly as painful as the fading terror on Claire's face. "Dad?"

"I'm all right, I'm fine," Cas assured her, "What is going on? What's all the yelling about?"

Claire rubbed at her face, shaking her head as though the tumultuous storm of words had left her spent and silent. Kevin took a calming breath and shrugged, "Alfie was feeding James, Claire was asleep, _or so I thought..._ so since you were on the way over, I came up here to help Melody find some socks and brush her hair. There's a really bad tangle because Alfie has no clue what he's doing, I was trying to get it out, and Claire came in here ready to rip me a whole bunch of new ones. Except for her, everybody's fine."

Cas turned to ask Claire directly, "Is that what happened? Or does it at least sound likely?"

Her breathing was rough as she answered weakly, "I don't know... I don't even remember getting out of bed, I just heard her saying 'ow,' and he had her hair-"

"And a brush, Claire. I wasn't hurting her, I wouldn't do that. You know me. I'd rather die than see either of your kids get hurt," Kevin insisted, "Go back to bed, I'll chop it off in the kitchen, she'll look cute, and it'll be short enough that Samandriel can handle it, and she can start learning to take care of it herself, okay?"

With a stifled sob, Claire gave a nod, Kevin gave her shoulder a quick squeeze, and he inched past Cas, heading downstairs. Cas watched him go before whispering to Claire, "I know you're exhausted, but if you even think you saw anything out of the ordinary when you came in here, say the word, and I'll snap his neck."

She moved to lean heavily on the wall, the shaking increasing and becoming obvious that it had much to do with her weakened state, and she shook her head, "It looked like exactly what he said... He was brushing her hair."

"Hair... It's been a few years, I suppose I've lost track of a few of your triggers. And finding him in here probably didn't help," Cas said gently, "With the way she squawks sometimes from you brushing it, it's a wonder you don't keep it short just to keep her quiet."

Claire allowed herself a small chuckle at the thought, and as she seemed to be calming, Cas pulled her from the wall and slowly helped her back to her own room.

"I don't suppose reminding you that the sooner you're well, the sooner you can be back at the shop is going to be any kind of incentive to rest?"

"Maybe," Claire mumbled, "I guess we'll see how it goes with the formula, it might screw up everything. Then I can be there all day."

"You were bottle-fed from the start, it doesn't seem to have put you at any disadvantage," Cas answered, "Then again, depending on what your mother may have been on, it was probably for the best."

Claire ran a shaky hand over her face as she carefully got into her bed, some sort of hidden defeat evident on her face as tears threatened again, "Kev's right about one thing, it's a hell of a morning... Or it would be morning, if James let me sleep..."

The sound of kitchen drawers and cabinets along with childish voices made it clear that Alfie had called Mike inside, and some small commotion was setting up in the kitchen. Cas stepped into the room and pushed the door mostly closed, "I won't insult you by making any recommendations, you get enough of that from everyone else, just know that it's painfully clear, you are not failing your children... But if you don't take care of yourself, at some point, you will. There are too many competent adults close by to justify this much sleep deprivation falling on one person, so-"

"We handled Melody just fine," Claire answered obstinately.

"I have it on good authority that the second child is usually the reason there isn't a third," Cas answered quickly, making Claire give a snarf of a laugh, "At any rate, I have no objections to pacing the porch at three in the morning for a couple of nights if it means the two of you aren't too tired to handle him and Melody during the day."

"Is there ever gonna be a time you stop trying to take care of me?" Claire asked quietly after giving a nod.

"You have children, what do you think?"

"So, never. Got it."

"Well, I won't live forever, I have to meddle while I can. Now, about this haircut, how short?" Cas asked, opening the door once more.

"No razors, and keep it girly," Claire answered, settling into her pillows.

Cas nodded, pulling the door closed as he left the room, and made for the kitchen. Alfie was pacing awkwardly as James attempted to wake. Melody was sat cross-legged on the kitchen table, a garbage bag with a strategically placed opening ready to catch her hair as it fell was fastened around her neck with a small piece of clear tape. She watched her father across the table with a look of apprehension, and knowing Claire's version of the same expression could quickly change to anger, Cas was curious how the event would play out.

Alfie was quietly attempting to remind her of the last time she'd had a haircut, but it had been some time, and she had likely forgotten, and his speech was hushed and choppy as he was distracted with James. Mike was following after Kevin, asking all sorts of questions as Kevin gathered what he could find throughout the kitchen to make do. The entire thing seemed to be a rather hushed and busy mess.

"...And then it won't get in the way so much... It'll be faster, too, and it'll stop getting stuck on your buttons and velcro," Alfie said quietly, drowned out by James' fuss, and shifting shoulders.

"I don't want to," Melody objected.

"It grows back, it won't stay short. But it won't hurt so much when it gets brushed. I promise, this is better," Alfie answered.

"It's gonna hurt!" Melody whined.

"It doesn't hurt-"

Melody clamped both of her hands down around the back of her neck, unaware of the unruly strands that ran most of the length of her back, with the wrinkles on her nose that indicated she was setting up for a shrill screech. She'd learned a few choice phrases, unavoidable given the amount of time she spent around certain mechanics, and Cas was aware that such a sound would not only upset James further, but have Claire downstairs at top speed.

Picking up the scissors Kevin had left on the table as he was wetting a dishcloth in the sink to dampen her hair, unable to find a spray bottle, Cas stepped close and discretely snipped off a lock about five inches in length, past where her hands were set. He felt certain what was left still qualified as 'long,' and would either be shortened anyway, or at least a decent length for Kevin to work with, and reached around her small frame to hand it to her, "Melody, would you hold this, please?"

Bewildered, the little girl accepted the lock of hair, and Cas set the scissors down next to her, pulling out a chair to sit close by. She was quiet as she prodded the neatly cut ends, and separated the lock into two strands, one in each hand, both fascinated and slightly horrified.

* * *

After pushing a swing for far longer than he would have expected, Cas managed to make his excuses and take a rest on the bench closest to the playground structure, watching as Mike, who was clearly due for a growth spurt, stumbling over his own feet, and Melody, her freshly cut hair bobbing about her shoulders, chased each other around the various equipment.

He became aware of a figure approaching from some distance, and as soon as it was obvious the man was headed for him, Cas was able to make out his face. Gabe took a seat on the other end of the bench, "Cassie. Thought I recognized your car."

"How's the elementary school?" Cas asked.

"Not as entertaining as it used to be, but, I don't know. Maybe I'm getting old," Gabe replied. He raised a finger, which moved, following Mike's path across the playground as he went, "That one, I know. Good kid. Really smart, lots of potential. His dad's a real weirdo, though."

Cas gave a slight nod, "I never objected to being in the company of weirdos."

"Oh, that's right, he was the best man at your little girl's wedding, wasn't he? Had a streak in his hair to match his tie. That got some old ladies at my table talking.. How's the munchkin, anyway?"

Cas gestured to Melody, who was making an attempt at a low set of monkey bars, narrowly missing Mike's face with her heel, "She's recovering from a c-section, which is why I'm on grandparent duty. Kevin, said weirdo, is probably still there, either helping with the baby or the housework-"

"Where the hell's the dad?" Gabe asked with a snort.

"Running himself ragged trying to take care of my daughter. He's at her beck and call, but with a newborn-"

"Well, as long as he's doing his part. That's good they have help, though. So, boy or girl?" Gabe asked, "And when's this one starting school?"

" _This one_ is Melody, and she's likely to start in the fall. James, her new brother, is going to be a few more years."

Red-faced and out of breath, Mike approached the center of the bench where Cas had set the children's water bottles and a container of cut fruit, fumbling to open the bottle as his voice continued at a high rate of speed, "Pop-pop, when are we going to meet up with Grandpa for burgers?"

Melody, who'd stuck the upper half of her small body through a ladder she'd been climbing, loudly argued regarding her promised chicken nuggets, but Cas assured Mike it would be soon, and just as quickly, he was gone again, knocking the reclosed bottle off the bench as he went, and Cas reached to pick it up. Gabe watched him go with a smirk, "Remind me, how's that one related to you?"

"Not in any official capacity, only where it matters."

"Kids used to make you so nervous, what the hell happened?" Gabe asked with a chuckle.

"Claire happened. She got me used to babies, then we figured out the late teens, and then Ben happened, then he and Xander dragged me through a repeat of the teen years, and now Mike has nearly covered the gap, albeit with less day-to-day responsibility... And just when I think I've figured out fatherhood, and settled into grandfatherhood, life happens again," Cas mused.

Gabe put an elbow up on the back of the bench, "The new one?"

"Birth is far from the only way to add to a family... I'm sorry, I've lost my train of thought. Did you need something?" Cas asked, turning to look his estranged cousin in the eye.

"Nope. Spotted your car when I was getting the mail, my house is across the street, and came over here to stalk you," Gabe answered, "Damn good thing nobody called the campus police that night, or you might not be allowed within three hundred feet of the place."

"Was that your plan? Having me arrested? You hid a tape recorder of a small kitten crying for its mother up a tree, covered in superglue, spread the glue around on the way down, and somehow convinced me to go after it, without clothes... I don't even remember what I was on that night," Cas said quietly.

"If I remember correctly, it was two shots of vodka while cramming, and then when you closed the books for the night, somebody gave you a hit of L.S.D... Probably Amy," Gabe replied.

"Amelia," Cas shook his head, "She certainly provided enough experience to know how to choose my friends carefully."

"Baby-mama numero uno," Gabe commented, "How's she doing?"

"Hospice, far away from here. My son in law is providing for her, keeping her well away from Claire," Cas answered. After an odd, questioning look from Gabe, he continued, "Claire came to live with me due to a severe case of abuse, stemming from Amelia's drug habits. She wants nothing to do with her."

Gabe's eyebrows raised, "Well... score one for karma, huh?"

In an attempt at the higher set of monkey bars, Melody had managed to get a few bars away from the ladder, and had missed her next grab, hanging by one hand as she called for Mike to help her down. Both men went silent as Cas seemed to be holding himself to the park bench, at the same time, ready to spring, until Mike had carefully set Melody on the ground.

"Cas, I have to be honest, I was going to try to swing by your office this week. When I spotted your car, I thought this might be a little more private. You're not the most popular guy in the district, you know."

Cas nodded, "I'd rather be an effective educator than be popular. It's not much of a sacrifice on my part."

"Yeah, well, I'm hearing whispers. I don't know what to think, but I'm not giving it much credit, the whole thing sounds off. At the same time... I wish I knew you better, it would be easier to know what to say when it comes up," Gabe said with a shrug.

"Whispers?" Cas asked, "Is there a reason you're being cryptic?"

"Uri Garrison got a friend to vouch for him, he's working in Bridgeway. Seems Hannah's mom goes to church with them. Somebody completely unrelated had some questions for me, so I can only figure somebody's got it out for you. Maybe more than one somebody."

"What did you hear?" Cas asked.

Gabe gave a shrug, "I can't say, exactly. It was more of a question regarding your kids. The boys, to be specific."

Cas felt a chill, recalling Uri's insinuations years ago, when Ben was still a fourth grade student. He had heard the bulk of the conversation, and the man's potentially harmful questions still rang in his ears, _"How well do you know your neighbor, Mr Winchester?"_

"Given that Ben and Xander are grown and moved out, I'm sure if anyone had any unfounded suspicions, they could simply speak to them about it," Cas replied.

Gabe tilted his head slightly, "They might. Of course if they're anything like their sister, sarcasm could come into play, and that's what's got me concerned. Otherwise, I would've blown it off completely."

It wasn't a great leap in Cas' mind, that a sarcastic response could be taken seriously, especially considering Xander's sense of humor. 

Nodding as he watched Mike climb up the slide, jumping over the side half way up, Cas answered, "That could cause things to take a turn... I appreciate the warning. I'll speak to them about it, ask them to be direct if anyone shows up with questions."

"Sorry, Cas," Gabe said quietly, getting up from the bench, "You know if you were straight, nobody would think twice about it. It's a fucking witch hunt."

* * *

Lucas pushed the rolling desk chair containing Margaret closer to the desk as she sat with the phone to her ear, in order to get at the lowest shelf of the bookcase. 

"Wrong year?" she asked.

Lucas settled cross-legged as it became apparent the repair manuals were out of order, "Worse. Looks like the damn thing is tinfoil, gum, and a coat hanger. I don't even know what I'm looking at in there. If this thing takes more than half an hour, I'm charging him triple."

Margaret chuckled quietly, hold music still playing in her ear as she turned her attention back to the computer.

The door opened, and expecting no one but customers, she looked up with a friendly smile, only to have her expression drop at the same rate as her level of comfort.

A notoriously difficult customer, Fred Hughes, towered over the desk with a look that hovered somewhere between displeased and smarmy.

"'s my truck done yet, sweetheart?" he asked with a greasy tone that carried a hint of a warning, as though to suggest she'd be making it up to him if she answered negatively.

"Give me a moment to check, and I'll let you know," Margaret answered softly, gesturing to the phone still in her ear. 

Fred Hughes chuckled, "You're a popular young lady. What's a guy like me gotta do to get your number?"

"I'm in a long term relationship. You can have Lucas' number," she replied quickly. 

"Not interested. And anyway, I don't see a ring, so it can't be that big a deal."

"I don't have to wear a ring to prove it, you should take a hint, and also take a seat," Margaret answered, typing one-handed as she avoided his somewhat oily gaze. 

"Fine. Your loss, bitch," Hughes scoffed. 

Lucas scrambled to his feet in a hurry, rounding the desk, "You've got another thing coming, asshole."

"Got the wrong bitch. I was speaking to her," Hughes said, pointing to Margaret, "And at any rate, what are you going to do about it?"

With an incredulous huff, Lucas shook his head, crossing his arms, he called over his shoulder, down the hallway, with as deep a tone as he could realistically manage, something Margaret would have found comical, had she had the focus to notice it, "Dean! Get in here."

Lumbering slightly from a twinge in his back due to activities the night before, Dean entered the office less than impressed to find who he'd be dealing with, "Yeah?"

"This guy wants to know if his truck is done, and if he's not gonna watch his language, I'm not gonna deal with him anymore," Lucas said, jerking a thumb toward Hughes. 

Dean quickly looked from Lucas to Hughes, and then to Margaret, before settling on Hughes solidly, "Is that right? Is there a problem?"

"If I'd get fired for saying it to a customer, I don't see why I should have to take it from him. You don't pay me enough for that, bitch," Lucas answered, clearly agitated. 

Hughes choked back a laugh at Lucas' behavior, likely expecting him to receive some admonishment from Dean.

Nodding in admission, Dean turned to Margaret, "Is it done?"

"Yeah, parked in spot three," she answered. 

"Three? Remind me..?" Dean asked.

"By the paint shed. Blue and gold Ram."

Dean nodded again, addressing Hughes, "Do me a favor and wait out front. I'll bring it around for you."

Starting down the hallway, Dean doubled back as he heard the front door close, significantly more attitude on his face. 

"Okay, what gives?" Dean asked, "He said 'bitch?' That's not a big deal around here. Hell, I called you a bitch yesterday."

"That's different. And he called Margaret a bitch, too, for not giving him her number. That walking pile of shit comes in here like he owns the place then shuts up when you or Blake show up. Eventually, somebody is gonna snap," Lucas said, starting for the garage. 

Turning to Margaret, Dean pointed down the hall after him, "Is that true? This guy sucks?"

"Honestly? He's walking the very edge of the creep-cliff. I wouldn't cry about it if he never comes back," Margaret replied uncomfortably, "You still don't have audio on the cameras in here, do you?"

Dean shook his head regretfully, "No. And that's making it harder to know how to handle this when I can't say for sure what's going on. But I'll speak to him, remind him to mind his manners."

"Hey, Dean?" Margaret stalled him as he was headed for the garage the way Lucas had gone only a moment before, "I'm sorry, but I'm with Lucas. If this guy doesn't shape up, I'm gonna be making excuses to hide out in inventory the minute he pulls in."

Dean nodded, "Well, you're paper pusher, if you don't feel safe working the desk, then we know we've got a problem. Consider him on his last strike."

Lucas returned shortly after Dean had left the room, peeking through the front window as Dean, having brought the truck around, was taking his time speaking to the man as promised. 

"That guy deserves a brand new swear word, just for him," Lucas murmured, "Something worse than cunt-nugget."

Stifling an outburst of amused laughter, Margaret shook her head, "I figured out who he reminds me of. I have this great uncle, my mom's side, he is such a creep. I don't know if something ever actually happened, but we were never allowed to be in the same room with him alone."

Lucas shuddered, "Your family sucks on both sides. They knew something serious was up, and kept him around anyway. Fuckwits."

"Probably," Margaret admitted, "Lucky for me, I'm dead to them, and I have the best do-over family in the world to make up for it."

* * *

It had been an indeterminate amount of time since desperation had driven her from the house leaving the girls in Ivan's care, since ingrained habits had pulled her to the vacant building where she'd invested so many hours, and curiosity had led her out of the car to pry nosily at the darkened windows, her hands cupped around her eyes as she leaned forward to compensate for her large belly. 

Julie was aware of the other car in the otherwise empty lot, assuming someone was turning around, until they'd taken a little too long to leave. A jolt of concern went through her before she recognized the dark sedan in the less than optimal and dusty reflection of the window. Turning around, she wore a hint of a sheepish smile, having been caught somewhere beyond fond memories and a pipe dream. 

The window of the classic black car rolled down manually as Julie approached it, calling out over the sound of the engine once she was sure Dean could hear her, "I'm not broken down. I just stopped for a look, everything is fine."

Shaking his head, Dean answered, setting his elbow on the door, "It can't be fine. The nearest decent burger is twenty miles away. We're stuck with drive-thru quality crap that's not fit to feed a dog. I know, I'm headed there now."

"There's always Mexican food, or that German place across town."

"They don't have burgers. Don't get me wrong, schnitzel and beer has grown on me, but we could really use an Americana place," Dean eyed the vacant building with a regretful look, "You really knew how to run things, too. Any chance you're thinking of buying the place? Start it up again?"

Julie shrugged, "I don't know about that. It tanked pretty hard."

"Yeah, but you slap your name on the sign, everybody would come running back," Dean suggested.

Julie gave the building another look as the shape of the rather boring and mundane building took on a spark of potential, "I'm not sure... I mean, something my mom said to me once when I dropped out to have Cyndi, she said I was going to be working here the rest of my life, like it was a bad thing, right? And now I've got kids to take care of, Ivan's got all the bills covered with a massive emergency fund, and even though I'm exhausted all day right now... I kind of want it back... Is that stupid? That out of everything, all my options, running a damn diner in a shit-hole town like this is what I want to see happen as my life's work? Alfie's a works famous artist, my husband's a rock star, and this greasy spoon is my legacy? That's stupid, right?"

As she turned back to him, Dean chuckled, "It's not. Just because the end result isn't huge doesn't make the dream any smaller, just makes that pie in the sky a little lower, maybe a little more reachable... And now I'm headed someplace that doesn't have pie, to load my grandkids up on a sorry excuse for actual food that Cas is going to fuss about for hours. But I'll tell you this, if you were running it, and it was open, we'd be here. Hell, I'd be up for investing in the place, if Claire said we could swing it."

"How is she? I heard she had the baby, but I went in for an alignment and Randy said she was having a hard time this time."

"She'll be okay. I'll tell her you asked, though," Dean answered, putting the car back into drive as he checked his mirrors, "You get home safe."

"I will."

After the old Chevrolet had swung out onto the road, pointed toward the fast food place several blocks away, the vacant, lonely looking building seemed to take on a shine of possibility in Julie's mind, and rather than a day dream of simply running the place once more, or a fantasy of owning it, a plan began to form in her head of a very real possibility of making it her own. 

A kick from her unborn child gave her just enough pause to remember that it wouldn't happen quickly, and that daycare would be a must, but perhaps in a year or two, if she was careful and determined, maybe the doors would be opened again. And maybe Dean was right about putting her name on the sign. Maybe. 

Walking back to her car, she wondered if perhaps goals didn't need to be quite so lofty for some people, if maybe the easily achieved could be just as satisfying as playing a two hour set for a sold out stadium.

* * *


	52. Chapter 52

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: School is back in session, and I have made more progress on this in just a few days than I have in some time. I already pre-registered for GISH '19, omg, what have I done?... Nah, just kidding. Surprisingly, none of the challenges got me naked this year. First time ever.
> 
> Got some decent Crowley in this one. One blink-and-you'll-miss-it had me rolling.
> 
> Thanks for reading! FW)

* * *

** Two Months Later **

* * *

There was a light knock at the door of Amelia's rooms in the care center, not loud enough to disrupt sleep, but with enough volume to garner attention from wakeful persons. Not bothering to roll over and face the door, possibly disturbing her I.V. in the process, Amelia barely turned her head to call over her shoulder, "I don't want to see you today, Crowley. Get lost."

With no more noise than the small click of the latch, her visitor cracked the door open a few inches, "Amelia?"

It had been months since the tense meeting in his office, and decades since they'd had any steady contact. Not recognizing his voice, only that it wasn't Crowley's, she turned over carefully.

Cas' face carried a look of concern, one she once knew well on his far younger face, and other than age, it hadn't changed much.

"I didn't expect to see you here," her voice was weak, but he detected a hint of trepidation.

Nodding, Cas stepped into the room, closing the door behind him, and taking a seat by the bed, "I'm sure you didn't. But I assure you, I'm not here to be a bother."

"You got your big scary man-boy waiting outside the door again?" she asked.

"No, Xander, and everyone else stayed home. I came here by myself, to see you."

"Why the hell would you do that? We were never really friends, and with everything I did-..." Amelia shook her head, confounded, but unable to finish the question.

"Because," Cas paused, struggling with years of hate for the gray-faced, dying woman before him, "Because Claire needed to know that you wouldn't be alone."

Amelia nodded weakly, "She doesn't want to see me."

"She can't. She has a new baby to care for, she's barely back on her feet, and even if she could, there's too much trauma there," Cas explained, hoping to put it gently.

After a short break of silence, likely drawn out by her low energy and need for rest, Amelia pointed vaguely toward the door, "That vulture's been watching me like a hawk... Crowley. The minute I'm gone, I think he's gonna call that kid."

Cas nodded slightly, "Alfie's uncle. He's probably here to take care of legal matters, and make sure they're keeping you comfortable."

"Keeping me alive to watch me suffer. That kid is some kind of twisted. Alfie's not even his real name, did you know? You need to watch him."

"Alfie is his name now, he had it changed. I'm well aware that it was Samandriel, and he had good reasons to change it. He's also one of the least suspicious people I know, and a terrible liar," Cas said quietly, picking up the framed photo of Claire and Melody from the bedside table as he spoke, "Even with all of that considered, I do watch him."

"Yeah?" Amelia asked, listening carefully.

"He would go to the ends of the earth for his wife and children, there's no doubt about that. Of course, that makes him dangerous, any threat to them, and he'd-"

"Make someone pay for their mistakes? No, don't look at me like that, I can't blame him for this, this was all me. I wasn't exactly eating right and exercising. But I know I made his radar, he told me when he brought me here," she said, steadily becoming more agitated, "I don't want to get into it. I don't want to go out thinking about it. I want to hear good stuff. Is Claire okay? Was the baby healthy?"

Cas pulled his phone from the pocket of his coat, opening a photo he'd taken a few days before, and handing it to her. The image showed Melody sitting on a sofa with her brother propped carefully in her lap with pillows, proudly feeding him a bottle with a large grin on her tiny face, "They named him James, but Melody calls him Jaime, and it seems to be catching on."

She shook her head a tiny bit as tears began to stream down her face, dropping her hand to the bed, "They're beautiful. Just beautiful... And I'm never gonna get to hold either one of them."

Cas reluctantly reached for his phone, not sure what to say. He was perfectly aware the damage Amelia had caused, and he couldn't exactly feel sorry for her, but he did recognize her grief and sorrow for what she'd lost through her own misdeeds. He wondered if Claire had come, what she might have said to her mother in this deteriorated state, wasting away as death encroached. Somehow, forgiveness still didn't seem like an option.

"If it helps," he said softly, "They have a loving, stable home, caring parents, and a few strict rules. Melody is a very intelligent child, very sure of herself, and protective of her brother, and James is hitting milestones early, like she did."

Amelia made a sound something like a sob or a chuckle, he wasn't sure, "I never kept track with Claire. There's a lot I don't remember."

"Anything you do remember, I wouldn't mind hearing. I missed quite a bit, myself."

"She pulled her earrings out... I don't know how she did it, she was only a few months old, maybe they were loose, but... She pulled them out. I had to wait until the holes had healed all the way before they would redo them. And there was one time, this guy came over, it was before she started school. He tried to take her doll as a joke, and she bit him on the arm."

Cas' expression sobered quickly as Amelia recounted the story, trying to hide his revulsion.

"I thought she was going to draw blood, I didn't know what to do, and I just froze," she continued.

"He tried to take her doll?" Cas asked, "Who does such a thing?"

"I don't even remember who did it. I just remember her kicking him in the leg the next time he came by. I was going to put her in her room, but Lance, the guy I was seeing, he told me to let him handle it, and I guess he took her to get some food or something. He was always worried about her getting enough to eat, I was always worried he was gonna make her fat... I should've kept him around, it would have been better for her."

The reality of sitting nicely in a room with his daughter's abuser as she passed suddenly weighed on Cas heavily. He could very well be hearing things Claire had found commonplace, or had simply blocked out altogether, and the room felt drained of oxygen as he bit his tongue against the cruelest of passive-aggressive comments.

Crowley's unannounced entrance was as much a blessing as rain in the desert as Cas turned in his chair to see who'd opened the door, while Amelia only rolled her eyes at the intrusion.

The well dressed fellow raised his eyebrows in surprise, "A visitor? Well, pardon me. I was just checking to see whether Mother Novak needed an additional pillow."

Cas stifled a suggestion of placing it over her face as Amelia shot daggers at Crowley with her eyes, "Don't call me that."

Rising to his feet, Cas supposed Amelia's distaste for Crowley's company couldn't be unfounded, and silently suggested they step into the hall, thankful when Crowley complied.

"Considering family history, I certainly wasn't expecting anyone to come hold her hand," Crowley said quietly.

"It seems she was asking for Claire, and the staff mentioned it to Alfie when they made the call. Claire was a wreck, and by taking her place, I convinced her to stay home. Nothing good could come from her seeing her mother."

"Not even a heartfelt death-bed apology?" Crowley asked, "No, you're probably right. That miserable waste of air is likely to reopen old wounds... You know, I haven't yet congratulated you on the namesake, I'm sure he'll be a strapping young man like his uncles."

"My sons are both adopted, they have no blood relation to Claire, or even to each other."

"I thought one was born into the family?"

"Ben is Dean's from a previous marriage."

"Ah, yes. I remember now. Well, at any rate, you're not exactly feeble. Those children will benefit from their less coddled blood."

Cas narrowed his eyes trying to decipher whether the statement was a veiled complement, or something else, "I'd like to know what's been going on. She's aware she's not expected to live much longer, right?"

"She's known for a while, but she's been told it's a matter of hours or days at this point. She may very well have slipped into eternity while we've been having this little chat. But you made it on time, I'm sure whatever you have to say to her, failures to remind her of, you're sure to get those little digs in before the undertaker arrives."

Cas decided that it was the combination of flowery speech and assholery together that made the man so very annoying to him as he looked over his shoulder, back to the door they'd left, "Is that why you're here? To remind her of her failings?"

"Well, there are so many for her to keep track of. I thought I'd make myself useful rather than twiddle my thumbs until it's time to sign papers," Crowley answered. He was entirely too pleased with the idea.

"Stop... I don't want you to bother her again. If you have nothing positive to bring into that room, stay out of it. She's dying, she deserves comfort."

"And your daughter didn't? ... Fourteen, wasn't she? Oh, it's no secret, I heard enough from her directly, and the details, I've wheedled out of your former 'convenient receptacle.' So many tears, and most of them selfish ones. I'm content to let her suffer."

" _Claire_ sent me. And when I get home, I want to be able to look my daughter in the eye and tell her that her mother passed with the same kindness and dignity I'd afford any stray dog," Cas answered angrily.

"Dear God! Not a dog, surely," Crowley was sarcastically aghast, "Dogs are kind, loving creatures who protect their young. It'd be an insult to dogs everywhere just to call that waste of breath a bitch."

Looking into the other man's eyes, Cas felt certain he'd realized the reason Crowley was going to such extents, "You aren't making her miserable for the fun of it, and this isn't just a favor to Alfie. You genuinely care about my daughter."

"Well, she is my niece, by marriage, mother of my brother's grandchildren, not to mention the way she's gotten that boy to stand up to his mother. I suppose, yes, as far as family goes, there is some love there, but it's more than that. I respect her. There's not many who can match me on wit, delivery, and hashing out contract details."

Cas felt discomfort but put it out of his mind as he turned away, "Stay out of Amelia's room, or I'll be calling your nephew."

Crowley watched Cas disappear into the room once more, accepting the end of his current favorite amusement, replying in a sing-song voice to no one in particular, "Worth it."

* * *

Ben pulled his Mustang up the gravel road, parking it just past Claire and Alfie's full double driveway, where the basketball hoop still hung over the garage.

On the porch steps, Alfie, looking as though he'd had a late night, sat in the shade, holding James upright, the baby's back against his chest, bouncing him gently in an effort to get his tired fuss to settle and fall asleep.

Melody was kicking a large vinyl ball across the yard, chasing after it, and kicking it back in the other direction. Spotting Ben's car, she hurried over to the fence, attempting to climb it, and failing.

Ben climbed out of the car, carrying something awkwardly, and circled to the gate, letting himself in as Melody began unleashing some sort of exuberant noise at the bundle as he set it on the ground.

"Oh, no," Alfie murmured to himself, "You did not..."

Ignoring the rolling mess of limbs and laughter behind him, Ben continued to the porch, ready to take a seat as he caught a glare from Alfie, "What?"

"You're taking that thing home with you, right?" Alfie warned.

"If you want. I can keep her for a while, get her spayed, trained, get through the worst of the chewing phase, if you don't have time right now."

"Time? Mel managed to cut her finger open while I was in the middle of a diaper change. That's not supposed to happen. And he's not sleeping at all this week, or at least, not unless somebody's holding him, so I'm about to get, like, three nannies in here so I can catch two seconds of-" Melody ran up to the porch with the chocolate lab puppy bounding close behind her, with repeated cries of 'daddy,' "What, honey?"

"This dog is poop-color!"

Alfie turned to Ben, "The dog is poop-color. You brought a poop-color dog. To play with a three-year-old with no filter."

"It's brown," Ben corrected Melody, "It's supposed to be chocolate-color. And it's not nice to-"

"It's a poop-dog!" Melody exclaimed loudly as James began to fuss harder, despite Alfie's best efforts.

The door opened behind the men on the porch, and Claire, her hair wet, poked her head out, "Why is there screaming?"

"Uncle Ben got a poop-dog!" Melody informed her, the volume of her voice further irritating James.

"Hey, Claire," Ben gave a small wave, trying to manage the squirming puppy climbing into his lap, and the small child that followed it, "Heard you're back at the shop in town already."

"Just a couple of hours a day..." Claire looked suspiciously at the dog as Alfie stood carefully, and passed James to her in the doorway, "Ben, I don't know, I don't care, but whatever it is, you're cleaning it up."

"Absolutely," Ben answered, "And it's not staying, not right now."

Claire nodded absently, carrying James inside as Alfie closed the door, sitting down once more on the steps, "So, got a little update, in case you haven't heard anything."

"Yeah?" Ben asked, his attention leaving the two young creatures romping wildly across the yard.

"Claire's mom has a couple days left, at most, Cas is in Oklahoma to, uh, see her out, I guess, and Dean's pissed. He thought Cas should stay home," Alfie said quietly, trying to avoid any attention from Melody, "Any idea why that would make Dean mad?"

Ben shook his head, "Not really... I know he regretted pretty much every time he ever had contact with his dad."

"You ever hear about his dad from your uncle's side of things?" Alfie asked.

"Yeah, um, Sam was so scared he'd be like their dad, he almost decided to just not have kids at all... Wait, I think I know. He cut his dad off before I was born, but he went to see him when he was dying, He came home, and he seemed angry for a really long time. I don't know what happened, but it had to be big."

* * *

Attending the dying was something Cas had only had to do once before, when his uncle had passed. There had been only a few hours warning, and it had been made abundantly clear that he'd had no wish to see his biological son, Gabe. In some ways, he felt prepared for what was coming, and on the other hand, it was entirely new. Not because Amelia was so close to his own age, or because it was taking more time, or because they had very little to discuss, but because he hated her guts, and only thoughts of his daughter kept him from making it any worse for her.

If he was being honest with himself, not all of his irritation with her was healthy. Yes, she was a drug-addled monster whose actions had caused his child untold suffering, but apart from that righteous fury, there was also a layer of petty indignation.

There would have been so much satisfaction in walking out, or taking Crowley's method and bringing up her failings one by one, but he felt he'd been right in removing the other man from the room, and insisting on peace within it's walls.

"How's your husband?" Amelia asked, breaking the silence. He'd thought she'd been about to fall asleep.

"He's doing well... He's upset with me for being here, he didn't want me to make the trip."

"I should have taken him up on the threat. This is taking too long. Chuck my body into the woods and give the money to a good charity... Probably hurt less, too," she mused.

"You realize, he's nothing like the man you met. He would never-"

"That's bullshit. He was trying to protect them... He was the guy Claire hit when I came before, right?"

"Yes, that was him," Cas answered.

Amelia huffed slightly, but as her difficulty breathing had grown, he wasn't certain it meant anything, "You could see it in his face, he wasn't even thinking about hitting her back... He'd do anything to keep me away, and he's right. Maybe you got a good one."

Cas nodded, "Yes, well, we'll see if I can keep him."

"You will. A man like that isn't going to do anything to put his family at risk."

He shrugged as anxiety slipped into his voice, "That does beg the question of what kind of man I am, that I'd risk upsetting him to be here."

With a weak shake of her head, Amelia rasped out as her breath seemed to take on a change, "I never really cared to figure you out. All I knew was I needed a wall between my baby and Marc, and there you were... I never really trusted you, not 'til you walked through that door yesterday... Can I see the picture again?"

"Of course," Cas replied, retrieving his phone from his pocket.

* * *

Spotting the number on the phone, Dean picked up with a grouchy tone, "Yeah?"

"Are you home right now?" Cas asked.

"Where the hell else would I be?" he replied with attitude as he pulled a beer from the fridge.

"Well, you could be taking the opportunity to spend some time with your brother, or any of our children, or possibly just taking in a movie. You aren't exactly housebound."

"Nope," he replied flatly, "I'm sitting here counting the window blinds and waiting for you to get back so we can finish that conversation."

"Would you mind speaking to Claire for me? I'm worried she'd guess why I'm calling, and I want to make certain she's not alone, or in front of Melody when she finds out her mother's gone... Also, considering the way her mother treated her, and you having lost your father, I thought you may have a better idea what she'll be going through."

Dean set the bottle back on the shelf and closed the door, and an audible change struck his voice, "Yeah. Yeah, I'll go tell her. Anything else I should tell her?"

"No. Well, Amelia recorded a message for her, I was in the room, it shouldn't be anything hurtful, but it's up to Claire if she wants to hear it or not, and when."

The line went silent on both ends as neither particularly wanted to end the call, nor had any idea what to say. There was still a bitter anger between them, but while Cas was aware of certain insecurities having possibly begun the ordeal, he had made the decision to dig in his heels, refusing to admit any guilt toward Dean's simmering distrust.

"So," Dean said quietly, his tone still somewhat flat, if softened, "Anything else?"

"No, just make sure she knows she can call if she needs to," Cas replied.

"Yeah... Yeah, well, that goes for you, too, if you need to, then call. I gotta go." There were no niceties as Dean ended the call, which would have been normal, had he been at work, but given the time and the ambient sound, Cas was sure that wasn't the case.

"That's an awfully glum look on your face," Crowley said quietly, suddenly appearing at Cas' elbow, an unnerving habit Alfie had taken some time to break, "Given the circumstances, you'd think-"

"My daughter just lost her mother, and couldn't even say goodbye to her, because her childhood was an absolute nightmare," Cas snapped, "Don't you have somewhere else to be?"

Crowley shrugged, "No, not really. I'll be waiting on the undertaker. Papers to sign, corpses to plant, graves to water, all of it takes time."

Annoyed, Cas checked that his ringer was at top volume and made for the lobby of the building. The hallways were quiet at the late hour, and the facility was nearly desolate. He took a quick look at the signal bars on the screen before putting his phone away, and settling into one of the large chairs, debating whether to schedule his flight home, or wait for the burial.

Crowley took a seat nearby, "I asked Claire once how you met Amelia, but she wasn't certain."

"We... had the same dealer. Once Claire was on the way, I put any questionable activity behind me, but it seems Amelia wasn't so capable of it," Cas replied quietly, "Claire's not aware of that, and while I'm not exactly avoiding the truth, I don't consider it relevant information where she's concerned."

Crowley made a motion of zipping his lips shut, twisting off the imaginary tab, and tossing it away from him, indicating he'd keep it to himself. "By kicking me out of the room, you've given me plenty of time to wonder how it is you could have any sympathy for her, even on Claire's behalf."

"I'm not sure I'd call it sympathy."

"Do you regret it?" Crowley asked, "Meeting her in the first place? Having a child with her?"

"I think it's obvious that part was unintentional," Cas replied.

"Been there. Done that. Got the tshirt," the phrase sounded so out of place in Crowley's voice, it caught Cas' attention.

"You have children?"

"Had. Just one, Gavin. SIDS, I'm afraid... I wasn't willing to try again after that. Of course, my family is entirely unaware, and never would have approved of the young lady, so I trust you'll keep my secret, as I'm keeping yours?"

Cas nodded, as the man's involvement with his nephew seemed more understandable, "I'm sorry, I can't imagine... As for your question, do I regret it? I don't regret having Claire, and my grandchildren, no. I just wish I'd done things differently."

The darkened lobby went quiet for some time as Cas briefly wondered how Claire was taking the news. Crowley glanced around, taking in the roomy area, and sat forward, bringing his hands down on his knees with a bit of a clap, "Well, I suppose as long as you're here, I may as well ask you for a favor."

Cas was quickly pulled from his thoughts wondering what Crowley could possibly need from him that he couldn't purchase elsewhere, "What kind of favor?"

* * *

The beam of the flashlight swung slightly as he walked, careful of a growing pothole in the rut at the bend of the road, and made a mental note to see about filling it in. Reaching the larger house, he made note of the amount of lights on inside, hoping not to wake anyone as he climbed the porch steps carefully. The porch light was off, as it was most nights, although Claire had a habit of leaving it on whenever Alfie was out of town.

As he reached to knock lightly on the door, he could make out a fair amount of noise. A very small voice was vehemently declaring war on bedtime, and Alfie was continuing to answer her. Further off, he heard the door of the garage close loudly. Given the current state of affairs, he felt no shame in knocking a little louder than he'd meant to.

The door swung open to reveal Alfie's look of confusion. He was holding James to his shoulder, and Melody seemed glad of the distraction.

"Hey, um. I need to talk to Claire, do you, uh...?" Dean pointed at the small baby who was clearly very awake.

"She's taking the trash out, probably just an excuse to tag me in," Alfie replied, stepping back to let him in, "Did you want a turn?"

Dean eyed the small girl with her arms crossed, and turned back to Alfie, "If she doesn't learn to have some respect for you now, you're in for it later."

Alfie looked back to his daughter, clearly taking it into consideration, and then passed him James, along with the burp cloth he had on his shoulder, before scooping up Melody, who went off like a siren, tucking her backwards under one arm, and started upstairs.

Steps were still resounding upward as he heard the door to the garage once more, and Claire quickly rounded the corner, headed for the source of the noise.

"He's got this, relax," Dean said quickly, slowing her pace.

"Did he call you?"

"No. Um, how about you come talk to me on the porch for a minute?"

Claire seemed suspicious as she followed him outside, waiting as he sat down with the baby before joining him on the swing, "If this is about my hours, I don't want to-"

"No. No shop stuff right now, this has nothing to do with that."

"Okay," Claire said quietly, in a leading tone, waiting for him to explain.

Dean hefted James in his hands for a moment, "Damn. Slugger's beefing up, huh? Got us another quarterback, don't we?"

"What's going on?" Claire asked more directly.

"Your dad called," Dean said softly, setting James on his lap and turning to look at her, "Your mother passed away a little while ago... He knew you guys have your hands full right now, and he wanted to make sure that when you heard, you weren't by yourself, or in front of Melody."

Her expression was stony as the news sank in, and after a few seconds, she nodded, "Right. Probably for the best, in case I freaked out."

"He also thought you might want to talk, you know, about losing a really shitty parent, so-"

"Not really."

"Claire, there's no way this isn't gong to mess with you, and if you bottle it up, it's just going to come out later, maybe in ways you can't expect."

Claire shook her head, "What's to talk about? It's over."

Dean adjusted to hold James a bit more securely as he began to wobble, "You were a mess when you came by a few days ago. If you're not feeling anything over this, you're probably in some kind of shock."

"I've been in shock. This isn't shock. I mean, I don't know what's next, or if it's just over, I know for sure she couldn't have had anything left after drugs and now doctors, so that's gone. I'm not worried about getting any bills, because I've never signed anything, and Crowley likes dragging stuff out in court for fun. Otherwise, Alfie is paying for it, it was his decision."

"Yeah, and you're not talking at a mile a minute because you're fine. Okay... Oh, and your dad said to tell you to call if you need to, and that there's a message on his phone, if you ever want to listen to it. He said he was right there, but, I don't know. It still could be some bullshit in-joke, so it's up to you if you want to risk it."

Claire scoffed, "'Risk it?' Like she's gonna say a few words and trigger me? I don't think so."

Dean shook his head, "You never know... I cut my dad out years before he died. One phone call from Sam, and I came running. My dad actually wanted to see me. Told Sam he wanted to make things right. I get there, and everything was going fine for a little while, and then the old bastard starts talking about Sam going to college and passing the bar, and how he's so proud, and I agree, Sam's great, really proud of him, and he turned to me, and he calls me a worthle-"

"Worthless screw-up," Claire finished for him, "You told me about that."

"I don't tell people about that."

"It was that anniversary party, when Jess gave you something with Everclear," Claire replied, "Last thing he ever said to you, because you walked out... Then you told me my mother didn't deserve me, and that the only thing I would ever owe her is a kick in the teeth."

"Yeah, well, I get honest when I drink, you know that."

"You also hugged Alfie so hard you sprained his shoulder."

"What?" Dean asked skeptically.

"Yeah. But I had to take him to the airport, so he got it looked at in San Fransisco rather than wait. You really don't remember?"

"Anyway," Dean stressed the word and drew it out, "I'm glad you didn't go, I hope I wasn't wrong. And if it was me, I'd tell him to hold off, and seriously think about having him delete it."

"I'll think about it. When's he getting home?" she asked.

"I dunno, I didn't ask," Dean admitted.

Claire raised her eyebrows, "You didn't ask?" It was the most emotion she'd showed since sitting down, and Dean realized quickly that she was onto something, "Why the hell wouldn't you know when he's coming back?"

Dean huffed over a rather sheepish response, "It's not a big deal. He'll get home when he gets home. I don't keep a tracking device on him and check his phone while he's sleeping, okay? It's a guy-thing."

"And he didn't think to tell you? Don't tell me you're both too butch to care when somebody comes home from out of state, because that's crap."

"Yeah, okay, fine! Stuff's tense right now, I don't want to get into it, it'll pass. None of your business."

"You didn't want him to go see her," Claire guessed, noting the guilty look in his eyes, "What did you think he was going to do? Kill her faster?"

Dean shook his head as a flash of irritation washed through him, and he passed James to her carefully, "That worthless piece of shit never deserved either of you. It doesn't seem right that Bobby went alone on his front porch, while she's tucked in some hospital bed safe and warm with a needle in her arm like she loves, _and_ Cas there."

He started for the porch steps as Claire called after him, "This isn't about her, is it? It's your dad. How did your mom die?"

Freezing in his tracks as he felt a bit of rage surface that hadn't hit him this hard since high school, Dean shook his head, and continued walking.

Claire pushed at the floor of the porch to set the swing rocking as she watched her adoptive father wander off into the night. Upstairs she could hear Alfie speaking to Melody firmly, but the yelling from the small girl had stopped. James had become noticeably floppier, a sign of sleep, finally, and she got up carefully to head inside as Dean made it to the curve in the road.

Clearly, the guy had some issues. It had crossed her mind a few times before that perhaps his rough start in life was what made him so very good at recognizing her own issues. He'd gone to such great lengths for her, and most of the people she knew. Not that her natural father hadn't, but he didn't seem to have a full grasp on what it was to carry on living after being so deeply wronged. She decided that in her haze, she had likely crossed a line, but she knew Dean well enough to know it was temporary.

* * *


	53. Chapter 53

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: So... felt like I kind of skipped out on the last one by just implying it, but for the dynamics of the couple, it seems we see a bit too much of the occasions when Dean's running the show, so I thought we were due...
> 
> To be honest, sex scenes take me forever, because once I get a decent paragraph, which is hard for me to put into words anyway, I usually take a break. I also can't do action scenes, I guess. Anyway, momentum! Booyah!)

* * *

"The diner?" Ivan clarified over the breakfast table as Cyndi helped Susie refill her cereal bowl, "The one that went under?"

"Yeah, 'the one that went under.' I had the whole thing running like clockwork before, after Meryl retired, I can do it again," Julie answered, "I went over the budget, savings, all of it, I can do this easy. And if there's something unexpected, Dean said he'd invest if it meant burgers and pie in the same spot. The town needs a family friendly place that isn't from some cookie-cutter chain, everyone's going to want to come back."

"Yeah, but that's a lot of work," Ivan responded, gesturing to her belly. She was nearly a week late, and was showing no signs of even prodromal labor, "And we're fixing to do the baby-thing again, so-"

"Which I did twice before, at the diner. And the first time I didn't have as much help, remember?" she said quietly.

"Why didn't you have help?" Cyndi asked as she sat down again, the first inkling her parents had that she was even paying attention.

"Well, because, um... You weren't in day care. And I was a really young mom, still figuring out how to take care of a baby and work at the same time," Julie answered with carefully woven threads of honestly, "But then it got easier, and when Susie was born, I had experience, and now I have it all figured out, so the baby isn't a reason not to get the diner."

She smiled sweetly at Ivan, having made her point firmly. He shrugged, and reached for his glass of orange juice, "I'm just worried about you taking on too much, that's all. If I'm on tour, and life gets crazy, you're already outnumbered, and-"

"You're outnumbered, Daddy," Susie cut in, "Because you're the only boy here."

Ivan nodded, "Yeah, well, your baby brother is gonna even things up a bit. But if I'm not here, and Mom needs help, what are you going to do?"

"We already help when you're not here, Dad," Cyndi answered, "So we would help the baby. But I miss the diner, I think Mom should do it."

"You do?" Ivan asked.

"Yep."

Susie chimed in, "Me, too. I miss 'tato wedges."

Ivan continued to hem and haw as the girls lost interest, gradually paying more attention to the back of the cereal box, "There's a big difference between running it, and owning it. And I would rather you just bought the place altogether, no partners that might make things messy, moneywise."

"I'll remember you said that next time Alfie's name comes up," Julie said, rolling her eyes, "Anyway, if we buy it now, outright, we can get started later, when things settle down with the baby."

"Because no one else can snatch it up, I get it," Ivan said with a nod.

"You don't like it," Julie observed.

"No, it's just-"

"Sorry, honey, I don't care," Julie said gently, "I need this, and I'm doing what's best for me this time."

Ivan shifted slightly in his seat, "Fine. Just tell me honestly, if this thing caves, are we gonna be broke?"

"It can't cave. Not with me running it. Not if I have to go door-to-door and remind regulars how good it was before, and tell them I'm fixing it. It hasn't been long enough for them to forget."

"Okay," Ivan replied, "Go for it. It's all you."

Despite his appearance of support, Julie had the feeling he wanted as little to do with it as possible, and that even thinking about it was some mild annoyance to him. She'd been honest, though, when she said she didn't care, as his opinion on the business meant very little to her. It was the lack of actual support that struck a painful chord for her.

* * *

Working in the open bays that faced the driveway, Dean had easily noticed the hired car Alfie had arranged when it arrived, and made note of it leaving, but made no hurry of walking over to the house, instead waiting for his usual lunch break.

Approaching the yard, he spotted Cas sitting on the chair by the front door. Scaling the steps, he grumbled, "I swear to god, you make one crack about me changing the locks..."

"I wasn't going to. And obviously I can get in, I already took my suitcase up," Cas replied absently.

Dean's first instinct was to ask if Cas had been waiting for him, but his pride and his mood wouldn't allow it, and instead he went inside making for the kitchen. He slowed as Cas opened the door, following him in. Slowly, still in the front hall by the side of the staircase, he turned around, his voice tired, "I'm still pissed at you."

"I missed you, too, dear," Cas replied with a hint of attitude, stepping closer as though to pass him. He hadn't expected Dean to pull him into a rather forceful kiss, backing him against the stairs and railing as he began to escalate, but the speed of his movements did clue Cas in that something was amiss.

"I'm glad you're home," Dean murmured during a short breath while his mouth was free, but before Cas could answer, his hand had been raised to roughly the height of his shoulder, and something cold clicked shut around it as Dean very abruptly resumed his trek to the kitchen, leaving him handcuffed to one of the balusters of the rail.

Surprised, and certain Dean could not have been holding the cuffs in his hand, Cas looked closer at where the cuffs had been attached, and found the edge of the carpet runner on the stairs had been prised up in a manner just large enough to conceal the cuffs.

He turned back around as he heard the microwave start, and Dean soon came back to the kitchen entrance to lean on the wall, well out of Cas' reach.

"You planned this. You planned this, and you pulled up the carpet? Dean-"

"I didn't have anything better to do," Dean replied.

Cas gave a sigh of great annoyance, "Is this really the time?"

"Sure. Or it could wait, I mean, you're not going anywhere. Right?"

"Well, obviously, I can't," he gave a tug at the cuffs in demonstration, "Unless I were to call Charlie and ask her to come pick the lock."

Dean reached for his back pocket, and held up Cas' phone.

Cas narrowed his eyes, "You're a brat, Dean."

"Yeah, but I know how to get your attention," Dean smirked.

At the beep of the completed timer, Dean shrank back into the kitchen with a smug and rather satisfied look on his face. "I don't suppose you'll at least bring me a chair if you're going to take your time with this," Cas called.

"Nope," Dean called back as Cas heard the microwave open and close, along with one of the kitchen drawers, "Sitting is bad for your back."

Cas twisted his hand in the cuff, "Dean, either get to the point, or give me the keys."

Calmly, Dean resumed his spot, leaning on the wall, chewing as he stuck his fork firmly into his T.V. dinner, and tugged a small ring with two tiny keys on it from his pocket, and tossed them, expertly missing Cas' outstretched free hand and letting the keys hit the floor out of reach at Cas' feet as he failed to suppress a chuckle.

Cas took a deep breath, "What do you want, Dean?"

Dean shrugged, "To get you as pissed off as I am. Looks like it's working, too."

"You're angry because I left for a few days, when you knew where I was going, what I was doing, and that I was coming back-"

"I'm angry you didn't run it by me at all! You didn't ask me how I felt about it, and when I said I wasn't fine with it, you didn't even try to talk to me, you just left. You completely ignored me!"

"Time was a factor!" Cas snapped.

"And my opinion wasn't!" Dean growled.

Frustrated by Dean's point, that he had been given no say whatsoever, and that Cas had made no effort to recognize his thoughts in the matter, Cas lost his patience. Leaning back against the side of the stairs, he reached both hands over his shoulder, gripping the baluster tightly, and wrenched it free from the staircase with the sound of cracking, splintering wood. He let what was left of it drop to the floor, taking in Dean's startled reaction as he took several quick steps forward and snapped the now empty cuff around one of Dean's wrists, "This is what you really want, isn't it? Me, here with you. Well now you have me, and your little fit can stop!"

"That's a load of crap! I don't want you here, I want you _here!_ " he said loudly, giving a sharp tap to the side of Cas' head, just above his ear with the hand that hand been cuffed, unintentionally yanking Cas' hand around with it. The implication, while not accurately expressed in words, was evident to Cas immediately. Dean desperately wanted his focus and consideration far more than his constant physical presence. It was a question of devotion rather than quality time.

With his free hand, Cas knocked the cardboard tray from Dean's hand and pinned him to the wall that led to the kitchen, kissing him fiercely, and pressing against him firmly enough to tell for certain that ripping apart the staircase may very well have sent Dean into a downward spiral that could only end in a larger fight or satisfaction for both of them. With a harder grind info Dean's already rock-hard package, he was rewarded with an open-mouthed whimper that was far too intense a reaction for actions in progress, which could only be caused by the pressure of the wall behind him. "Plugged again?" Cas asked dryly.

"Yeah, well, you weren't here to do it for me."

"I am now."

"Go for it. But I'm still mad at you."

Angrily, Cas turned him to face the wall, carefully adjusting their cuffed hands, his own right to Dean's left, setting his hand on Dean's left shoulder and letting Dean's dangle just below it as he gave a firm pressure, sure to affect the plug hidden by Dean's jeans. "I wasn't running off to see an ex, you know that," Cas growled against Dean's ear as Dean bit his lower lip, "And the _entire time_ I was worrying about how upset you were when I left. Now you're suggesting I didn't think of you or your objections at all?"

"Call it like I see it, babe," Dean answered, his voice muffled by the wall as Cas fumbled awkwardly to unfasten Dean's belt and jeans with his left hand.

Cas thrust his hand into the loosened fabric, stroking firmly at Dean through the cloth of his boxers, and pressing his ass even harder against Cas' groin. "You see it from one side. Your side."

"How else-..." Dean's voice stuck in his throat as a garbled mess of sound came out instead until Cas eased off, "How else am I supposed to see it?"

Dean felt Cas' hand leave him, sliding around to the back of his belt, guiding him a couple of steps back from the wall. He left his right hand planted against the wall, hoping to have a reason to need to keep his balance as Cas seemed to be adjusting his own clothing before clumsily shoving Dean's down around the top of his thighs. Cas gave Dean's shoulder a firm squeeze, a hint that he was to lean forward, and Dean had barely moved before he felt a very abrupt tug on the plug before it was let go to slide back in, all the way to it's discreetly curved base.

"Did you even attempt to see things my way?" Cas asked. He waited until Dean was about to answer before issuing a very hard slap to the buttock he could easily reach, drawing a small yelp from Dean before taking a firm hold of the plug and easing it out slowly, but with little warning.

Dean panted, willing his muscles to relax as Cas shifted his grip, turning the plug as he continued to pull it steadily from Dean's body, "I-, uh... hm!... I didn't figure there was ever a good reason to ignore your husband. I mean, I don't."

"You don't?" Cas repeated, taking note of the amount of lube Dean must have inserted prior to the plug. It was a wonder he didn't leak it all over his clothes. He dipped a finger in easily, removing it to trace Dean's entrance, "How many examples would you like?"

"Anything not food-related."

"How about laundry-related?" Cas asked, lining up, and pressing his tip to Dean's hole.

"Sure," Dean breathed, somehow still attempting to speak, "Remind me."

"You have washed _your_ work jeans with _my_ dress shirts too many times to count. I have to kick my shirts under the bed and wash them separately to avoid transferred grease stains."

"That's not a thing!" Dean protested.

Cas took the opportunity to sink himself deeply within Dean, a little faster than was comfortable, something Dean enjoyed, making him whimper and tremble, "You know perfectly well it's a thing, you tried to cover the stains with white-out."

"...stains were gone..." Dean managed quietly.

"The shirts were gone. I had to throw them out from the stains the white-out caused," Cas answered irately, "How is it you can get blood and cum out of anything, and still be so inept at doing laundry?"

Dean steadied his breathing, but shook his head, "Those are the only ones I'd worrying about people seeing."

Cas slid back out of him most of the way before he began to pump, slowly at first, and then in earnest, "I'm sure you're still upset with me..."

"Not right this second," Dean choked out as a moan began to build up in his throat.

"And I'm upset with you for cuffing me to the stairs-"

"If I-ohhh, shit.... If I wanted you tied up for real, I could do it. I just wanted to get your attention."

"So you admit it," Cas' free hand began to wander the soft-skinned flesh of Dean's stomach and chest as Dean had picked up his rhythm, "You're acting out for attention? I expected better from you."

"Oh, fuck," Dean whispered unintentionally, before regaining control of his voice as Cas began to pick up speed, "Cas... You know I need it."

"And you're getting it," Cas answered with a grunt.

Dean had to fight to be understood through each unintelligible moan and fuss that escaped him now, as Cas had taken a tight grip at his base, hoping to get him close and make him beg for release, "I... Ah! Oh, shit... 'need it... need it 'cause I love you... I love it... Hard! ... Cas! Oh, I fucking love you so bad..."

Cas was careful to keep his body on track as something shifted gears in his head. Releasing Dean's base, keeping a tight hold of his shoulder where their hands were cuffed, he sunk his own thumb deep into his mouth, and without warning to Dean, withdrew almost entirely, and stopped. He pressed his thumb in, below his erect member, as deep as it would go, and eased back in at a far slower speed as Dean went nearly silent but for high-toned breathy moans as his knees began to give way. Keeping hold of the wall, he was forced to sink to kneeling as his body crumpled with pleasure, and Cas did his best to keep moving slowly as he matched Dean's decent to the floor. Once stable, Cas curled the tip of his thumb downward, and thrust faster. "Enough attention for you?" Cas asked roughly as he began to pound into Dean, as Dean's belt buckle had slipped low enough to scrape the floor.

Dean shuddered, and with a jumble of sounds, a hint of a whine, and several growled repetitions of Cas' name, he spilled over, still caught within the confines of his clothing. Cas gently, and slowly removed his hand, and only his hand, from Dean's rear, wrapping his free arm around Dean's waist, and holding him close to him as he settled back to sit on his heels, while Dean continued to breathe hard.

"Dean," Cas said softly, bringing him back to earth, "I can't possibly get any closer to you than I am right now."

"Literally up my ass, yeah," Dean acknowledged, attempting to wipe some of the sweat that had formed on his lip.

"Physically, yes. But emotionally, mentally, this is exactly where I prefer to be... I'm going to give you back the plug, and we'll finish this upstairs after you call the shop so they'll know there's a delay."

Dean nodded, and as Cas let go, he eased upward, slipping off of him, holding steady as the plug was reinserted, "Where the hell did you learn that, anyway?"

Cas smirked as he adjusted his clothing enough to get himself to the bedroom where he'd undress properly, "I didn't. But it was certainly worth the attempt."

He chuckled a bit, still somewhat euphoric as he struggled to his feet, finding himself a bit disheartened by the spilled food he'd need to clean up, "Hey, give me a minute-"

"Later," Cas insisted, half-standing, and reaching for the keys to the cuffs, "Upstairs. I have to insist."

"Sweetheart, if you need it now-" Dean started as Cas popped his own hand free and tucked the keys into his pants pocket.

"Now."

With a sigh, Dean started up the stairs, glancing at the mess on the floor once more as he adjusted the back of his waistband, feeling a very different mess clinging in the fabric of his clothes, thick, gooey, and slipping lower, "Couldn't just ride you on the couch until you're off, huh?"

Cas only followed after him in silence.

The suitcase was just inside the door, against the wall, as Cas had not unpacked yet, but as Dean spotted the items on the bed, the first to catch his eye was a medium sized Mylar balloon that looked entirely out of place. It read 'I'm Sorry' in a rather bland font as it turned lazily in the air. The string was tied to the cardboard handle of a six pack of bottled beer of an imported specialty brand Dean liked, which he normally passed up for a cheaper domestic imitation. The bottles were sweating condensation, obviously still very cold, and one long stemmed red rose had been tucked into the cardboard carrier.

Cas settled his hands on Dean's waist, "A dozen roses didn't seem to convey it well enough... too impersonal."

Trying to deny the feeling of forgiveness settling in, if only for a few more moments, Dean shook his head, praying his voice wouldn't give him away, "So you just figured you'd get me drunk? Or what?"

"It's your favorite."

"It's getting warm. It's been getting warm the whole time we were downstairs."

His patience lost to the strain in his slacks, Cas manhandled Dean towards the bed, "I am trying to apologize to you. I left while you were still very upset, and I shouldn't have done that. Call in, you've got one minute."

Dean fished his phone from the pocket of his jeans as he gingerly sat on the edge of the bed, his clothing sticking, and the plug keeping things interesting as he reached to untie his boots. The shop phone rang only once before Blake picked up. "Singer Auto, how can I help you?"

"It's Dean. I clocked out for lunch, but I gotta take a couple hours. Are you guys good to close?"

"Uh, yeah," Blake replied.

"Good," Dean answered, ending the call quickly, before Cas, now stripped to the waist, his slacks still askew, tugged the phone from his hand and set it on the nightstand as he moved the six pack as well. Dean couldn't help a glance at the protrusion before him, and raising his green eyes to meet Cas' gaze, found something primal and fierce that gave his entire body a tingle similar to that of a watering mouth.

In seconds, Cas was skillfully tearing at Dean's clothes as his own slipped lower due to gravity, unchecked. He pushed Dean over onto his back, and once he'd pulled the jeans away, clambered on top of him, his lower half between Dean's legs as he quickly fastened the empty cuff on Dean's wrist to the footboard of the bed. A hint of concern graced Dean's features, a careful balance of anticipation, trust, and something that wasn't quite anxiety. Coming in close to Dean's face he stroked a hand through the other man's hair roughly, his voice ground out a half-whisper, "I did mean it when I said I missed you."

"I can tell," Dean answered, feeling Cas' tip bump awkwardly against the flange of the plug, "I missed you, too, sweetheart. Even if you were being an asshole."

Cas fumbled slightly with one of Dean's legs, but Dean beat him to the plug, easing it out before Cas could reach for it. "Tell me if you need more lube," Cas said.

"I don't. Get in there."

As Cas pressed in, slower this time, Dean's breath took a jagged pant, and settled into a harsh, if very quiet rhythmic moan in time with Cas' movements. Dean's sedated reaction, something Cas was used to, as Dean often became very pliant on a second round, amused Cas, as the thought crossed his mind that Dean had been desperate for him, and now, having received such a dose of him, wanted nothing more than continued contact. Cas allowed his hands to wander as Dean wrapped his legs around Cas' lowest ribs, taking a grip on Cas' upper arm with the hand he had free, surrendering to the motions and emotions that had chased all sense from his mind.

Thick. Hard. Sweet. Sweat. Each thrust brought with it relaxation, comfort, reassurance, and Cas' hands kept him chained to the reality he would have just as soon drifted away from. With a shift of an angle, Cas spread his knees slightly, bringing his belly lower, encasing Dean's genitals between their bodies, providing a soft pressure and gentle rocking motion, "Do you forgive me for going against your wishes?" Cas asked against Dean's neck.

Rather than speak, Dean tangled his hand in Cas' hair and gripped it tightly, increasing the hold he had with his thighs, and brought Cas' lips to his own, providing a couple of small, short kisses, then rattling the cuff against the footboard rail, "Get this off me?"

Nodding, Cas picked up the keys from the blanket where he'd placed them just out of Dean's reach, pausing to kiss him once more before he fumbled with the cuffs. He hadn't expected Dean to immediately make use of his awkward and very distracted angle to roll them over, legs still straddling his waist, and angle them closer to the pillows at the other end of the bed.

Dean no longer had far to lean as he reached one of the brown glass bottles in the carrier, shooting an amused look at the balloon as he sank lower onto Cas' cock, taking him in deeply while he twisted the metal cap from the top of the bottle as Cas raised his knees to give himself some footing to thrust with.

"Dean, you're avoiding the question."

"No, I'm not," Dean answered haltingly, letting his hips continue to move at a very similar pace and angle to what Cas had been doing, "The question's asked. I'm avoiding the answer."

"Why?"

Dean lowered the bottle from his lips, "I'm in no shape to be making big decisions like that. And if I forgive you, you won't feel bad enough to keep being this nice to me."

"Most of the time, you don't want me to be this nice to you," Cas answered, taking hold of Dean's hips and encouraging him to raise them a few inches, "Most of the time, you want me to slap you, drag you around, throw you over the back of the couch, and see what I can manage before you've had too much to keep going."

Dean smirked slightly as Cas took the bottle from him and set it down before thrusting upward hard enough to knock Dean forward over him and picked up a quicker pace.

"You ever get tired of being right?" Dean asked.

"Yes. It makes being wrong very uncomfortable. And you're taking advantage of that now."

Dean let his head drop to Cas' shoulder as he rocked backward, meeting Cas' movements, a whimper rising in his voice, "Cas... oh, shit, keep going..."

Feeling certain Dean was past the ability to hold a conversation, Cas doubled his efforts, until between the sounds being dragged from Dean's mouth came whispers of how close he was to release, a small, desperate pleading that never failed to stir Cas up from deep within, one of his primary reasons for gagging Dean now that they lived alone.

He felt it easily as Dean's ejaculate spilled from him without much pressure, running off the side of his stomach, a heat that tipped him over the edge as well. After a few moments of stillness, wherein a small motion was enough to allow him to slip from Dean, feeling his own results leaking from Dean's body onto his skin, Dean propped an elbow and rested his head on his hand, bringing his other hand to the side of Cas' face.

For a few seconds, Cas was sure all was forgiven, all was forgotten, and he could stay in the bed with Dean, entangled in each other until the end of time. But it was Dean. And Dean never kept his mouth shut after mid-day sex.

"You threw my lunch on the floor. Hell of an apology."

"Do you want me to cook?" Cas asked.

"Yeah, well, cooking doesn't take care of the mess."

"Dean-"

"Not denying it was hot, though."

Cas rolled his eyes, "Please, just tell me what you want."

Dean's expression sobered immediately, endorphins having caused a high that had left him vulnerable, and all at once, his mood crashed and the burn of threatening tears stung at the back of his eyes, "Don't walk out on me again," the words failed to come out in the commanding tone he'd hoped for, "Not like that. Not ever. I can't-... I can't take it, not from you."

Cas pulled Dean into a snug embrace, kissing him softly.

* * *

"Hey, you got keys, right?" Blake asked from two bays away.

"What?" Lucas replied.

"Keys for the building? Dean called, said to close up for him at the end of the day," Blake answered, pulling a dipstick from the vehicle before him.

"Why?"

"Uh... Hell, I don't know."

Lucas shook his head grumpily, "I know where the emergency set is... Screw it, if he doesn't come close shit down later, call Claire. Either she'll lock it up or she'll kick his ass for us."

Blake took a moment to consider the empty bay between them, "Hey, how come her place is getting more customers than we are? I mean, she's been out, Randy's handling most of it, they're so swamped they had to get Xander over there, and they'll still sending us people?"

"They're in town, nicer building, makes us look shady."

"Oh."

At the sound of the office door, Lucas got to his feet and hurried to the front office, only to be met with the presence of Fred Hughes, the last person he wanted to see. 

"How can I help you?" Lucas asked flatly, not bothering to fake a smile. 

There was a hint of a chuckle as Fred responded, "Uh, is your boss around?"

"If you want his number, you should know his husband can and will kill you. Anything car related, I'm your guy," Lucas answered. 

"Uh-huh, listen, all I need is the oil and a rotation, maybe some WD-40 for the wipers. You think you can handle that, big guy?" Fred asked, looking down on Lucas' small, unmasculine frame.

Lucas bit back a response of 'all that and your father,' not wanting to be the subject of a complaint, given the mood Dean had been in lately. "Of course. Are you going to wait, or are you dropping off?"

"I'll wait. Just don't take so long that I have to come back there and do it myself."

"No customers past the lobby without say-so from the owner. Insurance liability. Try it, and you'll be getting your car done somewhere else," Lucas answered as plainly as he could, attempting to remain professional.

Fred passed him his keys and sat down with a sour look on his face as Lucas locked the computer and started for the door.

* * *


	54. Chapter 54

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: Catching up to my preferred 'one chapter ahead of posting' thing. Also going faster now.
> 
> Quick warning: creepy person is a creep. Mild drug use.
> 
> So, I needed to get my kids reading something, none of the usual books were holding their interest, and I found a FNAF/Gravity Falls crossover, so they're getting fanfic chapters at bedtime. I explained the idea that it was fan-created content, and my youngest now has a few ideas of stories he could write. I'm so proud... My poor babies, I've corrupted them.
> 
> Thanks for reading! FW)

* * *

Even in the healthiest of relationships, hurts rarely heal quickly. Despite Cas' every effort to repair the damage, Dean spent the following two days in recovery from the foul mood that had crept like a poison vine into every aspect of his waking hours. The kids at the shop were on edge, he was still being short with Cas, he had no interest in watching television, nor had he cared to turn on the radio in his car during a run to town. But, as with all things, there would come a breaking point, and it came in an unexpected manner.

The shop door closed, he could hear it from his desk where he was silently, glumly sorting paperwork that he had to handle on his own, versus what he could pass off to Claire to work on at home during James' naps. He'd planned to walk over after closing, and remind her once more that Cas was home now, and she really should go talk to him. She was dodging Cas, he was sure. There could be no other reason for the avoidance.

Speak of the devil, though, and she appeared in the doorway. His look was harder than he meant it to be, "Oh, good. Here, you get to take home the big stack."

"Yeah?" Claire asked, as Melody's voice drifted in from the front office, much to Lucas' annoyance. She eyed the stack he'd patted, unimpressed, "Okay."

"What's going on?"

Claire stepped into the small room, closing the door behind her, and sat down across the desk from him, settling in comfortably in her chair. That was never a good sign, as she only did that when she was gearing up for a long chat, or giving orders.

"You didn't want to change your hours, and I told you you can't swap schedules around, so, what brings you in here? You still haven't talked to Cas-"

"I came to apologize," she said quietly, "And maybe pry a little."

"You can try, but good luck with that... Prying, I mean. Otherwise, don't worry about it."

"No, I'm pretty sure-"

"Claire, just-"

"I'm sorry."

Dean immediately felt cornered, "You don't have to be. You were right, it wasn't about... Look, we're good, okay?"

"No, we're not. I hurt your feelings or something, and you only came over there trying to look out for me, and I'm pretty sure I crossed a line. I should know by now if you don't talk about your mom, there's probably a really big deal, and I should have dropped it. I screwed up, and I'm sorry."

Dean nodded, sitting back in his chair, "Okay... I was four. Sammy wasn't a year old, she was pissed at my dad because he'd slapped me across the face. She went to blow off some steam, and... Well, she was dealing with his drinking problem by working on one of her own... Wrapped her car around a tree on the way home. Closed casket... That's what you wanted to know, right?"

Claire let out a slow breath she didn't realize she'd been holding, "Actually, I was gonna ask what Xander wanted for his birthday."

Dean opened a drawer, low on his side of the desk, and pulled a very beaten up picture frame from below a stack of odds and ends. He set it carefully on the desk before her, laying it down on it's back. Claire reached for it, and found that the frame was more solid than it looked, the glass carried thick dust in the corners as though it were rarely cleaned with anything more than a hasty wipe. It was an old photo, faded, and yellowed at the edges with time. She could spot the resemblance easily enough, Dean was the little boy who had his mother's chin. The same cheekbones had carried on to Ben, who seemed to favor John's coloring, although Claire considered it may have come from Lisa.

"Didn't stop there, I guess," Dean continued his thoughts quietly, his eyes scanning of their own accord, looking for anything interesting to rest on, anything that could keep him distracted rather than acknowledge another person's presence in the room, "The couple of times my dad managed to drag somebody else into his mess, it'd be good for a while, things would settle down, and then he'd slowly go back to being his same old self. She'd get pissed, they'd both be yelling, she'd leave, and if she was smart, she wouldn't come back."

Claire set the frame down, "Does Dad know about that?"

"It came up."

"Because you were fighting."

"I wouldn't call it-... um..."

Claire nodded, "You knew he was coming back, but there's no way you could feel like he was actually coming back. I think I get it."

"Whatever, it's done with," Dean muttered, picking up the frame from the top of the desk, giving it a quick look, and burying it in the desk drawer once again, "Just caught me off-guard."

"What do you mean?" Claire asked.

Dean shrugged, "With Lisa, I always had it in the back of my head. Bent over backwards to keep her happy, she never got pissed off enough to leave angry... I don't know."

Claire nodded again, sure he wasn't speaking literally, and in fact, did know. He had clearly made the connection that he hadn't expected to feel the same anxiety over Cas leaving during an upheaval, because he was male, and as such, had not thought to put in the same effort to reach a peaceful resolution before his departure.

"But he's back, and you guys are better now, so-"

"Yeah, it's, uh... It's fine. Well, we're still talking about it, but... Yeah, it's, um..."

* * *

Margaret had had the day off, but calls still had to be made. Due to a wrenched ankle, Lucas was at the desk for the day, under orders from Dean, banished from the garage. Fred Hughes had brought his truck in, again, claiming the alignment seemed off since the rotation, and was sitting quietly on the other side of the room.

Lucas did his best to ignore the implication that he had somehow been at fault, certain he had done his job correctly the first time, trying to put it out of his mind when Dean had set Blake on the task.

Claire had come through, not stopping to clock in, and she'd brought Melody with her before heading to Dean's office.

A box of toys had been tucked below an end table of magazines in the corner, and as usual, the small girl went straight for them, well aware she was not to go near the hallway without an adult. Quietly, she pulled several of the toys from the box, and aside from running one of them below the chairs next to the water cooler, she hadn't made much noise.

The small squeak of the leather sofa below the window made him look up from the computer screen to find that the man was no longer staring at the screen on his phone.

Lucas had watched and overheard enough small-talk between customers before to realize that the occasional bored adult might take an interest in the creative games of children, ask general questions, especially adults who were fond of kids in general, and he attempted to ignore the feeling in his gut, writing it off as the voice he was quickly growing to hate began to address the little girl seated on the floor.

He was in the middle of updating a schedule for the coming month when the couch creaked again, and his eyes darted over. Despite the echo, he couldn't make out what the guy was saying, and the knot in his stomach grew, considering the comment Margaret had made, comparing him to her uncle. He'd scooted closer to the place where Melody sat, still maintaining some obvious distance.

He chalked it down to the guy being an asshole, and attempted to keep his mind on his work, sure Claire would be back in a moment. She never stayed much longer than it took to pick up a few files, not since she'd had the baby.

"Yeah?" the voice was quiet, and too smooth, "What does your shirt say?"

Lucas was out of the chair almost before the man had tugged at the shoulder of Melody's tshirt to straighten the folds. Hesitation gripped him for a moment as the man's hand lingered on the child's shoulder, freezing him at the desk before he realized something that seemed vital quite immediately. There was no text on her shirt, nothing to be read, it was only a print of a common cartoon character, which was obvious from across the room.

Finding his courage bolstered, Lucas crossed the room gingerly and heaved the child awkwardly from the floor, "Buddy, you put a hand on her again, I'll break it off in your own ass."

Ignoring the feigned confusion tinged with outrage coming from the customer, Lucas limped carefully to the hallway, throwing the door of Dean's office open, and spilling Melody into her mother's lap as the sound from the front office began to grow.

"Watch your damn kid. I'm not a fucking babysitter," Lucas snapped.

"What the hell-?" Claire asked, used to his attitude, but not expecting a sudden outburst.

From the front office, Hughes could be heard at the desk, angrily calling after Lucas, "...or somebody want to get the hell back in here? This is bullshit!"

Dean stood, attempting to squeeze past Lucas, but was unable to do so in the tiny room, and was easily blocked in by the desk.

Lucas shook his head, and addressed Melody directly, "You don't go near him again, okay? He cuts off little kids' toes and turns them into soup."

"Lucas, shut up!" Claire replied loudly as Dean gave up and pushed him out into the hall before him, pulling the door shut as he went.

"... how you run things around here? Jesus Christ!" the yelling continued from the waiting area.

Dean took a close look at Lucas' face, said nothing, and went toward the clamor being raised at the desk. Lucas followed after him, and was surprised to see Dean sit down at the computer and begin pulling up current work orders.

"This employee of yours is getting out of hand, Winchester. I'm not going to be treated this way. If you're not gonna handle him-"

"I'm not gonna 'handle him.' I wasn't in here. He was," Dean said quietly, "He's gonna handle you."

A quick look over Dean's shoulder at the screen showed which work order was pulled up, and that the transaction was being canceled. Lucas squared his shoulders, and looked Hughes in the eye, "You're taking your business somewhere else."

"Fine. Not like there's not another shop in town, unless your psycho ass works over there, too," Hughes replied angrily.

"Her mother runs that location, so if you know what's good for you, I wouldn't," Lucas replied.

Dean stood, passing a print out to Lucas and ducking behind him, striding quickly to the garage, "Blake? Close it up. I want this guy out of here, yesterday."

Keeping an ear out in Lucas' direction, and remaining visible in the hallway, Dean opened the door to his office to find Claire had taken his seat behind the desk, and had her eyes glued to the computer screen, Melody curled up in her lap, still holding one of the toys she'd had in her hand when Lucas had picked her up.

"Hey," he said softly, catching the icy glare as her attention turned to him, "Do we need to delay things? Call the sheriff's office?"

Claire gestured to the screen, with one hand, absently stroking Melody's hair with the other, "Nothing happened. Not enough for them to do anything."

"Well, thank God for that. We can still fill them in, let them do what they want with it," Dean suggested.

Claire shrugged, and pointed to Melody at an angle the child wouldn't see, "I don't want anybody asking questions, or planting ideas."

Dean nodded, then took on a questioning look, "When did I give you the password for the cameras?"

"A while ago, in case you forgot it."

Dean closed the door as he heard the truck start in the bay, and went back to the front office, where Hughes was continuing to ramble. "... just treating me like I'm some kind of pervert, getting that kind of treatment from a little sack of shit like you. I'm definitely reporting this to the Better Business Bureau. Not to mention all over the damn internet, I'm gonna make sure the whole damn town knows about-"

"Knock yourself out," Dean said sarcastically, cutting him off, the sound of the engine pulling around to the front of the building, ensuring Hughes would have no reason to stay, "Everybody knows by now that we don't do business with assholes."

"You're kicking me out of here because I spoke to a kid? Really?" Hughes demanded.

"No. I'm kicking you out of here for the way you treat my employees. Evidently, you had nothing to worry about, up until you started screaming and swearing."

Hughes left the building with rage growing in his eyes, and Dean stepped closer to the window to watch until the man's truck had pulled out onto the highway before returning to the office doorway, aware that at some point, Lucas had wandered off.

Claire was still holding Melody snugly, and Dean noticed the small child had wedged the toes of her shoes between her mother and the chair.

"He's gone. Hughes, lives on seventh street. Add him to the degenerates list next time you're in town," Dean said quietly, "You know, your dad should be home by now if you want to take her over there, little distraction could go a long way."

Claire shook her head, settling her arm a bit more firmly around her daughter, "Nah, we'll head home in a few minutes."

Dean left the door open this time, as the room had been growing stuffy, and headed through the bays, where Blake was cleaning up odds and ends. Inquiring about Lucas, he was told Lucas had limped off behind the paint shed, conveniently out of sight from most of the property. He found his suspicions correct when he reached a well hidden shaded area where Ben, Xander, and Jack had at one point dragged several old seats scavenged from a van.

He'd dropped onto a low stack of old wooden pallets, his back toward Dean, and by his motions, it was evident he was attempting to light a joint.

"At work?" Dean asked, making Lucas jump and drop his lighter, "Seriously?"

Lucas shifted to reach for the fallen incendiary device, but Dean scooped it up first, passing it back to him. Lucas eyed the proffered lighter with suspicion before he accepted it, and resumed his purpose, "You gotta let this one slide, Dean. You owe me that much."

"I owe you a lot more than that, but it's only sliding this one time."

Managing a decent draw, Lucas shook his head, "That asshole could've fucked me up in one swing. What the hell were you thinking?"

Dean took a seat further away from the smoke, "I was thinking you need to get used to this kind of thing. Claire's kicked people out plenty of times, you're a manager, you need to step it up."

"That's different. Claire scares people. It doesn't matter if she's not ripped enough to pull an engine block with her bare hands, she gets in there with claws, she's like a damn tiger or something, and she just-" he made a swiping motion with his hand in a claw-shape, "Fuck's 'em up. I can't do that, they see me, and, just-"

"Don't make excuses. You did pretty good keeping yourself under control today, and it'll be easier next time. You put on a brave face, tell them how it's gonna be, and if they don't go with it, there's cameras. I know you're capable of being a leader, because Blake isn't. But also, I want to schedule a vacation pretty soon, and I don't want Randy coming back over here and letting you get soft," Lucas began to chuckle, piecing together words slowly as he took another hit, but Dean cut him off, "Shut up, I don't want to hear it... What the hell's going on with you lately, anyway?"

"Uhh... Besides my boyfriend shutting shit down, moving back home, and refusing to sign the lease over to me rather than just ending it with the apartment folks?" Lucas asked.

Dean cringed.

"Yep. It's cool, I crashed at Randy's for a few days, rented a room at this old lady's house, I don't know. Not the best option for dating, but, whatever. It's a roof... Makes this harder, too," Lucas gestured with the hand that held the joint in a careful pinch.

"I bet," Dean replied, "But it's a place. That's good. It's a good start... You knock that shit off, and maybe you could afford a whole apartment."

"I don't need one," Lucas replied, stopping to take another drag, "Truth is, man, I'm just killing time until time kills me. It's all pretty fucking pointless when you think about it."

"Pointless?"

"Yeee-ap. Pretty much my whole existence."

"You think Melody thinks so? Or, she will, when she's older, if she remembers today at all? You think Claire, after the shit she went through, you think she thinks you're pointless? ...I think you're good at telling yourself you're going to fail, and that's why you don't try."

Lucas sat very still, his elbows on his knees as a thousand yard stare took over his features, contemplating Dean's words. Dean waited, wondering if Lucas was making any progress, or if the weed had made the statement far more relatable and profound, but no response seemed even close to forming.

"There's no way you're that high, that fast. You just lit the damn thing," Dean said after a moment.

Lucas smirked, "Like you would know."

Dean shook his head, getting up and starting for the shop, "Yeah, you're right. Never had my heart set on getting locked up... I gotta check on Claire, but stick around for dinner, okay? Just make sure you wash up, I don't want the house smelling like pot."

* * *

Alfie turned his head, unable to move much once James had fallen asleep on his chest. In the dim light, he could make out Claire's face, her eyes still puffy. She'd fallen asleep crying, only to be woken half an hour later by Melody's nightmare of someone putting her in a soup pot, and had carried her back to the bed. Melody had gone back to sleep almost immediately, but the sounds had started James waking, and Alfie had taken him downstairs until he settled.

Even for a very large bed, it was beginning to be crowded.

He felt it as James yawned in his sleep, and set a hand on his tiny back, wondering how safe it would be to ease him onto the mattress next to his sister. Melody had a horrible habit of kicking away blankets, but the room was warm, and keeping blankets off the baby would certainly be a good idea. She also seemed too small to roll over him on accident.

Alfie considered taking James back to the pack and play, hopeful for the chance at a deeper sleep than simply dozing, but he didn't particularly want to move.

It was incredible to him, the facade of strength Claire had kept up until Melody had gone to sleep, given the state she was in underneath that became evident when it fell away. There was an incredible amount of guilt, self blame, fear, and worries over the rest of Melody's childhood, her whole life, and then the cycle repeated with the same worries for James. Layer after layer of hurtful thoughts and concerns began to shed, piling up, engulfing her... He lost track of how many times she'd repeated her realization that she was unable to completely protect her children, and he was perfectly aware that she was speaking of things far more damaging than skinned knees.

It had been a long conversation, Claire had always considered Singer Auto, both locations but particularly the original, to be as safe as her own home, aside from possible accidents common within the industry. She'd always thought, of course, that if anyone appeared to be a threat to her child, she would shred into them, desiccate their remains, and whittle a flute from their femur, and somehow, she'd frozen, afraid to leave Dean's office until he'd told her the man in question was gone. She felt weak, powerless, and she didn't have to say it, Alfie could tell, she believed she had failed Melody.

Claire said she'd watched the video at least ten times, and, albeit tearfully, had demonstrated for him the small contact made, the tug of the shirt fabric on his own shoulder, admitting to counting the seconds on the video that the contact had been made before Lucas had stepped in, pulling Melody from the floor.

He'd tried to reassure her that it was likely a misunderstanding, that Lucas was often an impulsive ass looking for drama, but he let the position drop as she attempted to explain that there was a manner to the man's actions that scared the hell out of her. She'd also pointed out that no reasonable person would have screamed at Lucas the way Fred Hughes had for removing a small child from the presence of a stranger over a misunderstanding.

Gently, as not to wake his small son, Alfie reached his phone from the nightstand, attempting to keep the light away from James' face. He checked his email, finding only one message from Naomi, and soon, in his sleepless haze, found himself reading through older text messages from Crowley... _"What the hell am I doing?"_ he thought.

He turned off the screen and set it down again, only to catch a small foot to his elbow as Melody turned over with a whimper, and watched as Claire wrapped an arm over her, pulling the little girl close. The question itself was false. He knew exactly what had crossed his mind. And it was entirely too tempting.

* * *

After Dean declared that Lucas had had too many drinks to safely get himself home, and offering the options of a ride, or the guest room, having replaced the toddler bed with a queen size, Lucas had opted to take the guest room rather than put anyone in the position of getting him back to work in the morning. Cas had not taken into account Lucas' lack of body mass when refilling glasses, and hadn't realized there were other chemicals in his system to contend with.

Insisting upon seeing the video for himself, and unable to make out much detail on the screen of Dean's phone, Cas made the suggestion that Lucas settle in, and accompanied Dean to the shop to view the video on a larger screen.

Dean hovered over Cas' shoulder where he was seated at the desk, and once the clip in question had played through, ending with Lucas pulling Melody from the frame, and Hughes getting up from the sofa in an aggressive manner, pacing and yelling in the direction Lucas had gone, Dean broke the stillness, "It's not much, I know. Probably just-"

"That man is a predator," Cas said quietly.

"He was looking at her shirt, that's not-"

"No. Lucas was right, back up the video."

Dean reached past him and used the mouse to play it once more as Cas began to narrate what he was seeing, "Each time he's about to speak to her, he looks at Lucas first. He also looks around as though he's watching for anyone else who might notice. When he speaks, he leans in too far, and there- he glances at Lucas while he's speaking. There should have been no reason for him to be concerned about being overheard, he could have spoken to her from the other end of the couch, but he moved closer anyway... Overly friendly, slow motions testing to see whether she'd run off to her mother... At the very least, he seems to be grooming her to accept physical contact."

"Well, shit," Dean breathed, "I mean, obviously he's being creepy, I guess I didn't really think through it."

"Working for the school district, I have regular training on recognizing abuse, you don't. Lucas was absolutely right to remove her when he did. Not that what he said to her after was appropriate, but this man is clearly dangerous. This needs to be turned in, even if nothing comes of it."

"Claire doesn't want anyone asking Mel about it."

"There's nothing in the video that would override her declining further involvement where Melody's concerned. But you have his address on record, you have this, so-"

Dean gave a small groan, "She'll rip me a new one if I do. Best bet would be to get Alfie on board, let him make the report."

Cas nodded, "You're probably right. He could also insist any questions be run by Claire before anyone speaks to Melody, should it come to that. I'd like to bring this up to him myself."

"Takes the heat off me," Dean replied as Cas got out of the chair and squeezed past him to make room for him to shut down the computer, "You think she'll freak out less?"

"I think I'm a mandated reporter, and she'll have to accept that, and this will allow it to happen on her terms."

"Good point," Dean replied.

"Having Alfie report it should take quite a bit of the burden off Claire, and put a bit of distance between this incident and any others that might come to her mind," Cas said quietly, stepping into the hallway, "How did Melody seem when they left?"

"She seemed okay. Claire wasn't doing so hot, but Mel was just being Mel. Well, I mean, she doesn't like Lucas much anyway."

Cas shot Dean a knowing look as they headed for the front door of the building.

"Hey, it takes all kinds to have a full team, right?" Dean said, "Even jerks, assholes, cry-babies-"

"And you've conveniently bundled them into one person."

"Cas!" Dean admonished.

"I'm sorry, Dean, you walked right into that one... I suppose you're right, he tries... And today, he succeeded."

Dean paused to lock the door behind them before catching Cas by the arm to walk close beside him, both of them aiming for the house, "I didn't even think of it, but, that wasn't too much for you, right? You're okay?"

"What? Tolerating him through dinner?" Cas asked.

Dean shook his head and glanced back at the building they'd just left, "No, I mean..."

Cas slowed and adjusted his arm across the back of Dean's waist, "I'm fine, Dean."

Dean slowed to a stop, and Cas stopped with him, throwing a questioning look his way. Cas watched as Dean loosened his hold and turned in place, looking at various landmarks around them, the gateway to the dirt road, the house, the shop, the closest stacks, and the yard lights. Looking down, he muttered, "You know, I think this is the spot where we were at..."

"What do you mean?" Cas asked.

"That, um," Dean looked up to meet his eyes, "That night in the rain. With the tire iron."

Cas looked around. He couldn't be sure, but it had to be at least close. It was a painful memory to look back on, as he had pulled Claire toward the house, completely oblivious to the fear she'd had to be feeling, the devastation in her eyes, soaked and shaking. She'd swung the tire iron at him with everything she had, and Dean had stepped in, likely saving him from a broken jaw.

"Until that night, I had no idea she was such a fighter. She'd been putting everything she had into being a clean-cut kid with good grades," despite the lack of light, he looked at the ground around his feet, as though checking for the tire iron she'd dropped several years before. Finding his efforts pointless, he stepped closer to Dean, face to face, "I don't know if I ever properly thanked you for taking care of the both of us that night."

Dean set his hand on Cas' shoulder, his thumb idly stroking Cas' earlobe as his voice came softly, "You're not gonna kiss me, are you? Because that would be, just, really gay."

Cas choked on unbidden laughter that made him falter, resting his head on Dean's shoulder for a moment until it had passed, the smile still holding his face hostage when he raised his head, "My gorgeous, unattainably straight neighbor... I don't know what I was thinking."

"Yeah, well, I was falling for you even then."

Cas searched his eyes, "What took so long?"

Dean wet his lips with his tongue, "You know, for a really long time, I figured it was Ben, I didn't want to screw things up, but... I was scared. He was just an excuse, and then I couldn't ignore it anymore. That crash she had, when you found out how bad it was, the last thing I wanted to do was let go of you. And he was right there in the room, and somehow it just didn't matter so much."

Cas closed the distance and kissed him warmly, keeping him close, and as the kiss ended, Dean looked around again.

"You know, we've had a lot of bad shit happen out here in the yard," he mused.

"We've made the best of it, I think."

"Yeah?"

"Bobby's death brought you and Ben here, Xander's accident removed him from an unlivable place. Unfortunate, of course, but we raised him well. Claire's outburst that night is nothing compared to the years of automotive therapy she's gained here."

Dean chuckled at the turn of phrase, meeting Cas' eyes, "I don't tell you enough, I know, but I am so damn in love with you. Still."

Cas tilted his head, "You don't?"

Dean's eyebrows near met with a look of confusion, "What?"

Cas shook his head and started them back toward the front porch of the small house, "It comes out quite a bit when I have you preoccupied."

"Yeah, but I don't think that counts."

"It does for me," Cas said quietly.

* * *


	55. Chapter 55

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: I've been sitting on this for a while. Forgot how much easier it is to edit when leapfrogging my chapters. Sooo much better.
> 
> Thanks for the reviews and comments! Typing my fingers off, as the upcoming stuff is already very laid out, but I think I need to post a deleted scene pretty soon as well, something that's going to occur during a time-jump in the regular story.
> 
> Take care of your very unique self! FW)

* * *

Claire woke with a start to a very quiet house, and immediately checked the time. Finding it was nearly noon, she started downstairs faster than she gave her mind time to properly wake. Nearing the bottom of the stairs, she felt her heart nearly lurch from her chest as ahead of her she found a man sitting on the couch, his back toward her, feeding James a bottle while Melody happily patted her brother's cheeks and spoke to him quietly. All that registered for the first few seconds was that the man was far too large to be Alfie, and she had no idea where Alfie was.

She didn't think she had made any sound, but he turned to look over his shoulder revealing a very familiar scar at his hairline from a wound she'd held shut with her own two hands, and just as suddenly as it had arrived, the fear that gripped her drained away, along with every bit of energy she had, from the feel of it.

Melody looked up at her with a big smile, still drumming her small fingers on James' cheeks, "I'm helping!"

"Hey, Claire," Xander called over his shoulder, "Hope it's cool about the bottle, just doing what I was told."

"Yeah, no. It's fine... Did Alfie have to go somewhere?" she asked, holding the corner of the wall a little too tightly.

"Yeah, uh, he and Pops had a thing to go do, and you were just out cold. He figured you just needed to sleep, but you were probably gonna flip your-um, flip out if you woke up and the kids weren't here, so he called me... I got to hear all about some stranger who cuts toes."

Melody continued to tap the baby's cheeks, "He can't get Jaime's toes. I will kick his ass."

"Mel," Claire warned, "Ass is a bad word."

"Still, I will kick him," she insisted, "And then he can be in the soup and not me."

Claire rubbed her eyes and headed for the kitchen as every awful feeling from the day before began to rehash itself in her mind. She stopped in her tracks and spun around, "Wait... Why the hell would those two...? Oh, shit."

"What's wrong?" Xander asked.

Claire had her phone in her hand and with use of speed dial, quickly to her ear, "I'm gonna kick Dean's ass," she grumbled, ducking out to the front porch and not stopping until her feet hit grass.

Inside, while Melody was quietly singing to James, her lips an inch or less from his forehead, mostly made up lyrics about bad words, Xander smirked, "Can't imagine where she gets it."

Claire was restless and shaking as her call was answered by Dean's voice, "Hey, what's up?"

"They're at the sheriff's office, aren't they?" Claire demanded.

"Who?"

"Alfie and Dad. You showed Dad the video, didn't you?"

"Uh-"

Dean was unable to make out exactly which choice words had been strung together, but as she slowed, Claire resumed actual English, "-fucking kidding me? He works at a school! He has to tell them if he knows about something happening, even outside of work, it's required! And nothing actually happened! Everything would have been fine! And nobody woke me up because all you assholes running my life for me, just ruin hers too, so-"

"Claire!" Dean said firmly, raising his voice.

"What?!" she snapped with a vicious rasp.

"They just pulled in. They'll be there in a minute. Cas asked to see the video, and he had a long talk with Alfie about how to handle it. He sent me a text when they were on the way back, they don't need to talk to Mel."

As Dean spoke, Alfie's car rounded the bend, and swung into the driveway next to the low fence, and both Alfie and Cas emerged.

Still flustered, Claire pointed between them both, speaking clearly into the phone, " _All three_ of you are on my list, okay?!"

In her ear, Dean replied, "Yeah, well, I probably have it coming."

Alfie froze in his tracks, and Cas slowed to stand next to him as she ended the call. "Was that Dean?" Cas asked.

"You all suck," Claire stammered, "You don't do this shit without telling me!"

"I'm sorry, Claire," Cas began, "But this is likely a non-event, and he did try to wake you, but-"

Alfie shook his head, "I'm not."

"What?" Claire asked.

"I don't want to upset you, but I'm not sorry," he reiterated gently, "I tried to talk to you about this last night, but you weren't up to it. Your mother just passed, it's a difficult subject for you anyway, and, just, she's my child, too... I'm not sorry."

Alfie's actions were carefully measured, and from Cas' perspective he seemed to tense as if half expecting a blow.

"I already knew where you stood on this before Cas came over this morning, and, honestly, you're too close to this, or, I guess your past is. There's too much landing on you all at once. I handled it... Unless you want to tell me you don't trust me."

"You went behind my back."

"Well, forgive me for not throwing a bucket of water over your head, Claire, but I wanted to get this done with Cas there, because he also didn't want Melody dragged into it, and he's got to be at the school in an hour, and I didn't want to let this wait and wind up with it swept under the rug."

Giving her a reasonable berth, he went inside with a predictable pace, which altogether struck Cas as a man who was attempting not to set off a dangerous animal, and it pained him that such a practice was necessary.

As the door closed behind Alfie, Claire faced him, "There's your opening, if you want to take it back."

"Please tell me you're not driving like this... This isn't your insomnia, is it?" Cas asked as Claire turned away in a huff, "He said James is sleeping more predictably, and you're not. He's concerned-"

"Dad, I swear, this is not the time," she replied angrily, "I just can't..."

"Claire?" Cas asked, watching as her anger fell apart into something very different.

She drew in a gasping breath as her emotions cracked, and tears began to run, small sobs taking over, "What the hell did she have to say to me?"

Cas hurried forward as she bent, one hand braced on her thigh as her lungs refused to cooperate with the air. Dean had relayed what he found to be an incredibly odd reaction when he gave her the news, and Cas had wondered several times if she was avoiding him since he'd arrived home. A heavy sway, during which she knocked his hand from her upper arm gave him the answer he'd expected. She'd been able to avoid processing it, as long as she avoided seeing him, and now it was all coming at once.

"Claire, please, sit down. You look like you're going to faint."

Only slightly more accepting of physical contact, he got her safely to the ground, and reached for his phone to summon Dean, only to have her grab his wrist, "Don't! I don't want to hear it!"

"I'm not playing it, I'm sending Dean a text. Calm down!" Cas answered, giving up at his attempt to type when Claire didn't let go of his wrist, instead hitting the call button. He set the phone to speaker, and placed it on his knee as he shifted to sit cross-legged, and put his other hand over hers as a gesture of comfort.

Dean answered quickly, "Yeah, how'd it go?"

"Just come over here, please. I think we need a first opinion," Cas said quickly. It had become a running joke at the shop that actual doctors and nurse practitioners existed to give second opinions, as Dean was very rarely wrong when doling out medical advice, despite his meager training.

Dean was soon on the way and off the phone, and Cas' attention turned back to Claire. Her skin was blotchy, to be expected, of course, but entirely too gray. The dark circles under her eyes had become concerning already, Dean had mentioned them, but he worried they may have become worse.

"While we're waiting," Cas said softly, adjusting to take her hand more easily, "There's something Crowley asked me to speak to you about."

"When did you talk to Crowley?" Claire asked.

"He was in the area, handling the arrangements," Cas answered, "It seems your grandmother on your mother's side left something for you in the care of a friend so your mother wouldn't sell it."

Claire shook her head and sniffled, "It's probably that stupid jewelry. It's too late to bury her with it, right? Just get rid of the whole mess in one box."

"Well, it would require disinternment, so it would be better-"

"God, she was such a bitch about it. She made me promise to give it to her when I got it, I was, like, six. Who does that?"

"He has everything set so you could go claim it. On the other hand, he thought it might be a sore issue. But that set has been passed down through your mother's line for eight generations, so he... He asked me to lie to you, and tell you he had a buyer lined up for it. He said he'd arrange for a falsified sale and then it would be put into safe keeping for Melody. He even found a few historical records on it, it was interesting-"

"Eight generations? It doesn't count as passed down if it skips, right?" Claire hadn't noticed Dean approaching behind her, "It's some bullshit metal and rocks, and it means nothing."

Dean took a guilty glance at his left hand and raised an eyebrow, but Cas shook his head and motioned him closer.

"There's more to it, Claire, but I won't bore you with the details. Crowley wants to spare you any pain he can while preserving what little history your mother's family has to give to your daughter."

"What about you? Why didn't you just go with that and lie to me?" Claire asked as Dean crouched next to her, trying to get a good look at her eyes before checking her pulse on her wrist.

"That's not who I am, nor is it who I'd want you to be. There's nothing wrong with pretending to play his game to suit your purpose, but I would never suggest you trust him."

Dean set a cautious hand on Claire's back, "You're not going to want to hear this."

"Doctor, 'a-sap?'" Claire asked, suppressing her irritation.

"Nope. Water, vitamins, bed, no sodas, no caffeine, no booze, real meals, and some sunshine. Drop everything else for about three days, and you'll be good as new. But the stress has to go, so, y'know, maybe counseling again? At least finish hashing this stuff out instead of pretending you're fine and dodging his calls."

Cas looked at Dean quizzically as Dean got back to his feet, "You're sure she doesn't need to go in?"

"If I wasn't, I wouldn't say I wasn't sure, I'd tell her to go," Dean replied, "However, panic attack in the front yard in your P.J.'s in the middle of the day doesn't really scream 'I'm good.'"

Claire shot him a look worth at least a few curses and an extended finger, but turned back to Cas, "I don't want the damn ancient hooker jewelry, tell him I'll take it so I can get rid of it for real. And I don't know if I want to know what she said, I need time."

"Ancient hooker jewelry?" Dean asked.

"It's not ancient," Cas commented as an aside, "Of course you should take as much time as you need, but... Have you really been dodging my calls? I thought you were just busy."

Dean took a few slow steps back, and then noticed Alfie watching anxiously from the porch and decided to join him. Gauging the distance to be out of earshot of a low voice, he gave a quick incline of his head toward Claire, "She's okay, just needs to quit pushing it for a while."

"She's not okay," Alfie replied, "Her hair is getting thin, she never sits down unless it's because of one of the kids, and I can take care of her all day, but it doesn't matter if she's not taking care of herself."

"What do you mean?" Dean asked.

Alfie paused, considering his next words, "After you came over to tell her, about four in the morning... She trashed the garage. She didn't cry at all, but she spent the next three days cleaning it up. She wouldn't let me in to help, either."

Dean nodded, "Hair, well, that happens a couple months after a baby. She's got a lot to work through where her mom's concerned. Sometimes just knowing you're never going to get closure, never going to really end things with somebody, sometimes that rips old scars wide open. You throw yesterday in on top of that, well..."

"I gotta call Ivan," Alfie muttered before heading inside.

"You're not going to going go bring her inside, first?" Dean asked with a hint of incredulity.

Alfie shook his head as he opened the front door, "No, if I go over there before she calms down, then, um... Just, trust me."

* * *

Following a particularly strenuous bedtime, the house finally went quiet. It was late, and Claire was parked at the kitchen table, her head on one hand, lazily scrolling her phone's screen with the other where it rest on the table top.

Alfie stopped at the bottom of the stairs, considering making an attempt at discussing the exchange in the driveway earlier in the day, but feeling unusually low, he silently settled on the couch, listening carefully for any hint of a fuss from upstairs.

He felt defeated at his lack of control over the situation. He'd had a boost of creativity over the last few weeks, and yet was unable to proceed on any new pieces, spending his days caring for his family or recovering from doing so.

Her chair made a small scraping sound against the kitchen floor, and he was aware of her approach, but he didn't look up until she sat down on the edge of the coffee table in front of him.

Meeting her eyes, he could picture it in his mind as clear as day. The gap between them was not a gaping chasm, not a ravine with a great depth to fall into, as they weren't all that far apart. The distance was a small one, they were still very close together, most of their stress was shared, no love was lost, they could almost reach out and touch hands. But what prevented it was a rip in reality, cruel jagged edges ready to cut either of them as a punishment for reaching for the other. It would take mending, but it felt as though one person had the needle, the other the thread, no one was going to mend the rip without some pain, and it would require coordination...

Lost in pretend imagery and the angles and shades of her face, he nearly missed it when she began to speak, "There's something I want... Something big."

He couldn't help it as he felt his stomach drop, wondering if he'd missed some signal from her, a sign that something was missing, if she wanted to separate, if he'd somehow ignored something he hadn't wanted to acknowledge, the though of his life without her and the children struck him hard, "What is it?"

"Playground equipment in the back yard," she said quietly.

"A swing set?" he asked, still recovering from the moment of shock where his mind had run away with him.

"No, actual playground equipment. Here," she passed him the phone, "This one has a really good safety rating, and it'll last a while. It's big enough they won't outgrow it for years."

Scrolling, he found a bit more information, "This company serves daycares, pre-k's, and churches... I thought you wanted to keep things as normal as possible?"

"Normal kids get to live in town, with five different parks to choose from, and they can walk there. Meanwhile Melody's bored as hell, and we can't keep up with her bouncing all over the house. And lets face it, we have plenty of space if we have some of the trees cleared."

Alfie looked closely at the photo, attempting to compare it with indulgences his own parents had provided him, usually in the form of high-end electronics, more toys than he had room for, and vacations to amusement parks with a nanny, "So she'd get to play and run off the energy and we can watch her from the back porch?"

"If you want to go all-out on something, I think this is the best bet. But if you want to keep it traditional, I'll get a regular playscape or something," Claire said softly.

"No," Alfie said quickly, "I like this. I mean, they can have a normal childhood and just happen to have a private playground, right?"

Claire shrugged, "When I was a kid, um, there was a playground at the apartments where we lived. It sucked, but..."

"Is this the biggest one they have?" Alfie asked, noting the discomfort she'd unexpectedly found in her own words.

"Don't you dare," she chuckled, reaching for her phone as he pulled it away, "That one is age-appropriate, safe, and smaller than the house."

"Yeah, well, age-appropriate is going to change. This one goes to age twelve, and-" still trying to keep her phone from her, Alfie gave in and let her take it once she'd climbed on to straddle his lap, "-it has a rocket ship... Hi."

"Hi," Claire replied as his arms encircled her waist, "When I said 'go all out,' I meant 'go all out, within reason.'"

"Yeah, but the rocket ship-"

"Budgets, honey. Pretend we have one."

"Never heard of them."

"I noticed," she replied, "So, are you okay with dropping a ton of money on this? Because we'd need a whole crew to come in, it would take major groundwork, and-"

"I like buying you stuff, and you never let me," he said softly.

"It's for Mel and James."

"Yeah, so they wear themselves out, go right to sleep at bedtime, and then here you are, on top of me, which, if I remember correctly, tends to get us into trouble. On a couch, no less."

Claire did her best to look unamused, "If you're implying something-"

"Only if you want me to imply something," he answered.

Claire gave a small shake of her head, and any hopes he had were easily set aside. She kissed him gently, toying with a strand of short hair at his temple, "If I tell you a secret, will you keep it quiet?"

"Wasn't that in our wedding vows? Right before the part about pinky-promises?" he asked, a disarming smile beginning to spread across his face.

"Crowley asked my dad to lie to me."

Alfie's joyful expression fell away, "Why?"

"It's not that bad-"

"It's something about your mother? Because I can find out-"

"No, it's not. It's a stupid family heirloom her mom didn't give to her so she wouldn't sell it, and he knows where it is so I can go get it."

Still somber he nodded, "So he's holding out? Some kind of blackmail?"

"No. He figured out I might not want it, so he wanted my dad to say he had an interested buyer, then he was going to shell out for it, and throw it in a vault or something for Melody after I'm dead. Dad said he found out some great uncle I had wrote a book about the history of it, and I guess he got wrapped up in it."

"So your grandmother kept it safe for you, and he wants to buy it, to leave it to our children. That doesn't sound right. Why wouldn't you want it? It was never Amelia's."

"It a set of jewelry some rich asshole used to pay my prostitute great, great, great, whatever grandmother. Mom would have pawned them for maybe ten percent of what they're worth, and shot up, but on the other hand, if she'd had the money, maybe-" Claire took a deep breath, rethinking her sentence, but unable to hide her true thoughts from her husband, "Maybe she would've O.D.'d and I could've moved out here sooner."

Alfie tightened his arms around her, and shifted slightly as she lay her head on his shoulder, "It's okay... I'm glad he tells you the truth. Nothing like my family."

"He's family to you, now," she replied.

"He is," he agreed, hoping to ease into another subject, "That's why I trust him..."

"I'm still upset about today."

"You're upset because your father walked me through the process of turning in a C.D. and a piece of paper with the guy's address and saying that since nothing horrible happened, we'd rather you don't pester the child?" he asked gently.

"Without me."

Alfie shrugged, "I don't know what you want me to do. I tried. I didn't want to let this die down, and... I had to talk to your dad, anyway."

"Why?"

"I guess I knew he'd talk me out of calling my uncle," he admitted in a small voice. Looking into her eyes, he saw danger there, "It just crossed my mind, okay? I wasn't planning anything, it's just, he helps keep me on the straight and narrow. I swear to you."

Claire turned, moving to sit next to him as his words sank in, but she was quiet.

"Please tell me you still trust me?" he whispered, "Obviously I knew it wasn't right if I went to someone who'd only remind me it was a terrible idea."

Claire gave a hesitant nod, "I guess I understand it... I thought about going over to his house..." she glanced at their bedroom door high above, mostly obscured by the railing of the upstairs landing before getting up from the couch as he caught her hand, "I'm going to bed."

"Am I following you up? Or-, I mean, how upset are you?" Alfie asked with a hint of a smirk.

"If you're not upstairs, how am I supposed to kick you and tell you to go get James?"

He stood, wrapping her in his arms and slowing her approach to the stairs, "That's a really good point. In fact, we should probably just sleep in the same bed all the time."

"We already do."

"Oh... I just thought you were lonely. I thought maybe you'd want to stop at some point," Alfie replied as Claire rolled her eyes, "I guess we could keep doing it. I mean, it would be a lot easier when you-"

"I can't walk up the stairs like this, you gotta let go."

Alfie let his arms drop before leaning in to kiss her. He had only meant to express his feelings for her softly, still resigned to the circumstances of her recovery and the exhaustion they both felt from the constant care required by their children. He hadn't been expecting Claire to kiss him back, at least, not to that extent. Not with her hand on his chest, soon becoming both hands taking a firm grip on his shoulders, and then, once she'd managed to step onto the lowest stair by feel, the edge of teeth grazing his lower lip in a way that never failed to get his complete attention.

"Hey," he whispered, pulling away, "You know I'll try again if you want to, but after last time... Not so intense, okay? You said it hurt along the scar-"

"I want to try," she assured him.

"Slow, though," he said softly, "And I have an idea."

"Yeah?" she asked. He was sure he heard a hint of hopefulness in her voice as she started up the stairs.

"Yeah... I was thinking about how slow we used to be, and, maybe that would work better, you know?"

Claire went quiet and paused at the top of the stairs, giving him a look he couldn't decipher at first, and he waited patiently, half expecting to be shot down, "When? How we used to?"

"Right at the start. Well, after that first time, I mean."

Memory catching up to her, Claire gave a small nod, accepting it easily as he took her hand, giving a gentle tug toward the bedroom, bringing a smile to her face, that despite years of marriage still could make his heart skip a beat. Getting ahead of her, an important part of the routine, he'd discovered at the beginning, he turned backward as he walked into the room ahead of her, and waited until she closed the door. Closing it himself, years ago, anyway, would have been out of the question.

Despite the horrors that brought it about, there was something beautiful about the carefully curated steps to the dance in which trial, error, and trod upon toes had taught them the easiest manner to reach comfort in each other's arms. Nothing had been so precise between them, not in years. Occasionally he'd make use of one or two of the steps, but upon reaching the point where they had connected so deeply as not to need it, the entire thing had faded away, unneeded.

"You remember the second time?" Claire asked quietly as she resumed her place in his arms.

Alfie shrugged, "I don't know. I definitely remember the first time for real, on the couch. And I guess what would've been the second time, when I drove you home. Everything else is kind of, um... It runs together."

"You kept trying to take things slow, I got really frustrated and yelled at you, knocked you over, and, a little later, ruined your belt."

"Oh, yeah... That was a hell of an evening," he replied, dropping to sit on the floor, paying little attention to how his legs landed. Claire lowered herself a bit more slowly, arranging herself much closer than she used to, "I think I still have the buckle in a drawer someplace. I know I was worried the neighbors were going to hear you. You didn't seem worried about anything."

"I should've been. I should've been worried about knocking you around like that, but I just lost it."

Alfie gently stroked a stray lock behind her ear, "You said you were sorry, I know you weren't trying to. And, honestly, that was without a doubt, the hottest apology I've ever even heard of."

"I did?" Claire asked, "When?"

Alfie couldn't hide his shy grin, "It's not important." 

His expression altered greatly in a short amount of time as she moved closer once more to kiss him, perfectly comfortable tucking a knee below his to get closer. Pulling back after a moment, she caught his eyes, "You missed this?"

"Yeah, a bit," he confirmed, sliding his hand into hers, the back toward her palm. Without missing a beat, without any hesitation, she raised his hand to the side of her neck, a delicate grip on his wrist as he kissed her softly. Anticipating his next movement to be similar, she fumbled for his other wrist, and brought it to the back of her waist, sliding it beneath the hem of her shirt and with a tug at the elbow, encouraged him further.

Claire briefly paused their mutual attentions to arrange her legs around his waist, starting to raise the bottom of his shirt, "I think I missed it, too... I don't want to go back to this all the time, but this is good."

Alfie nodded, tracing her collarbone, but keeping his hand roughly in the same area. His breathing had changed, she noticed as she pulled the fabric from his shoulders. As he'd learned to do, he let his arms come to rest, waiting rather than risk touching her too quickly and setting her off. Claire had forgotten that part, and scooted closer, bringing their torsos more fully together as she kissed him, her hands seeking out the skin on his chest and tracing the edges of the winglike scar on his back.

Deciding it was worth it to break his own self imposed rules, Alfie wound his arms around her, relishing in the contact as he moved to whisper in her ear, "I love you, Claire."

"I love you, too... And I can tell," she replied quietly. He found a hint of sadness in her voice, just a trace, but he knew her too well to ignore it.

"What's wrong?"

He felt it easily as Claire attempted to shake her head, but after a few hesitant breaths, it all came out at once, "I feel like I stole something from you, sometimes... Like, this isn't how it's supposed to be, like you should've gotten with somebody who wasn't so broken, before I came along. And, maybe I stunted your growth. You never had a chance at normal sex at the start... I know you hate hearing stuff like that, but it's how I feel."

Alfie tightened his arms, swaying slightly, certain he could feel her heartbeat against his bare chest, "No... I told you, I told you when you first told me, right? Anything you need from me, you can have it. I want you to have it. I meant every word. I still do."

"It's just, everything you've been through so I can feel safe..."

"If it's working, it's worth it."

Claire backed up slightly, putting her hands on the floor behind her and leaning back to get a clearer view of him, "You know, apart from everything you do to make me feel safe, I still think you're sexy, right?"

She found his attempt to hide a grin adorable, but she waited quietly for him to respond, "I, um... I had a feeling something was doing it for you, since you've kept me around this long."

Straightening up in a motion that normally would have tipped him over backward, Claire was surprised as he changed her angle with a grip of her thighs, raising her up a few inches while adjusting his legs below her, "Hang on. I actually put a lot of thought into this. Turn around."

"Turn around?"

"Yeah, like, um... Like when you were showing me how you do it, remember?"

Catching his meaning, she rearranged herself in his lap, "God, that was a long time ago."

"Yeah, and it wasn't as intense because I could slow it down," he replied, slipping his hands into the front of her waistband as he began lazily kissing the side of her neck. She adjusted her hair to hang over his shoulder, out of the way, "I'd been gone for weeks, and I still scrubbed my hands raw before you came over."

With his arms against her ribs, working his hands slowly lower within her clothing, it took her a few moments to get her arms comfortable, but she managed to wriggle one between them to fondle him through his jeans, reaching over her shoulder with the other, resting her hand on the back of his neck. His hands were warm, and his touch was gentle as he moved slowly, memories coming back to him of simply trying to get a feel for her body coming back to him. He traced her folds with the least pressure possible, feeling a hitch in her breath. Searching lower with one hand, he found her growing steadily more damp, and dipped the tips of two fingers into her entrance, making a small circle to spread the pooling liquid before stroking upwards and making her shiver.

"I wish I could explain how good it feels, getting inside of you," he whispered. Having her lower lip engaged by her teeth at the time, she gave him a firm squeeze, with a shift of her hips that he wasn't sure, but was either involuntary, or urging him on, "It's something incredible. Really."

"It can't be that good, or you'd never turn it down," she breathed roughly, "You'd be begging for it all the time."

"If I could do that without hurting your feelings, I probably would," he admitted.

Distracted as he passed a particularly sensitive place several times, her own motions seemed to take on a more insistent tone, somewhere between a squeeze and a rub, but it was happening faster, even while he stuck to his soft, caressing pace, even slowing at times until her breathing would calm.

"You're really trying to make this take all night, aren't you?" she asked.

"I'm trying to make you comfortable. How am I doing with that?"

Claire set her feet wider apart on the floor as he rewarded her efforts with a firmer, but just as slow stroke of his fingers, "Kinda empty, still."

"Focus on something else," he suggested.

She shook her head, squirming against him, "I don't want to, I want you to keep going."

Caving quickly, he slipped a pair of fingers shallowly within her, continuing his gentle massage of her tender lips and clitoris, "Better?"

"Ohhh, fuck, I wanna move," she breathed, her words little more than a whisper.

"Don't. I've got you."

Claire's hand dropped from the back of his neck, covering his own between her legs in desperation as she pressed the back of his hands, trying for more stimulation than he wanted to give her.

"Hey, slow down," he said softly, feeling her writhe,and hearing her curse under her breath.

"I can't," she whined, "It's not enough like this."

"Claire-"

"I don't care if hurts, I'll get over it," Claire said quickly, gripping both his forearms and tugging, hoping to pull his hands away.

He knew this point of her frustration well, the point where normally she'd stop whatever was happening, if it was too slow or too soft for her, clothes would go flying, and she would sink down around him with a whimper. It was challenge for them both, him to deny her, and her to restrain herself. Normally he would have given in, given her anything she wanted, but a worry lurked in his mind that the pain she'd felt the last time, the only time in quite a while, would become commonplace. It nagged at him that she could come to associate all sex with pain, and he was certain it would leave lasting damage, and require even greater attentions to undo.

"Please... Just go with it," he murmured against her neck, moving to nip at her ear, the warm breath from his nose confusing her senses, "Tell me what you want to do next."

She was panting now, which was broken by the occasional choked moan, her hands on his arms switched from attempting to jerk them away to a crushing squeeze, "Oh, shit... This is... when this is done... You better kiss me."

"Special kisses?" Alfie asked, a term they only used between the two of them.

"Very special," she answered in a groan-turned-purr.

With his body straining against the seams of his clothes, he caught her earlobe loosely with his lips, running the tip of his tongue along the edge of it, suckling at it for a moment in anticipation of further events, then let his teeth sink into her delicate skin just enough to leave an imprint.

Claire suppressed something between a whimper and a hushed squeal, sounds of pleasure erupting from her more easily then ever, "Ah! God, yes! I-I need that... Oh, damn this is taking too long! ... Alfie?"

"Shhh..." he answered as he felt the first hint of a wave of pressure around his fingers and eased off, "Breathe... let go and breathe. I won't stop until you tell me."

In a last ditch attempt to relax as he wanted her to, Claire dropped his hands from his arms, her shoulders sinking further against his chest, a few deep breaths coming between gasps as she slowly untensed. It wasn't until her hands returned to his arms and she insisted that he stopped, letting his fingers go still, holding her.

"Did it hurt?" he asked softly.

Shaking her head, her hair askew, she answered him, "No... I'm good. I think I'm past it... I needed that."

He waited as she moved, disengaging from his lap, and turning to face him. She took hold of his wrists, bringing them to clothes as she had many times before, leaning in to kiss him as he made slow progress.

"I want to know, were you exaggerating when you told me it 'does something to you,' when I tell you what I want?" Claire asked.

"Downstairs, just now, when you said you wanted something big," he nodded, "Yeah, I was trying to live up to the request."

Claire chuckled, "You're so easy."

"I am, I'm completely helpless with you around."

"Take off your pants."

"Sure... Wait, I thought we were going to-" Alfie found himself on his back, a yelp having caught in his throat as Claire's hands soon had his jeans sliding down his legs, his boxers with them. His body seemed to cooperate of its own accord, but as she ran her hands up his bare, slender but muscled thighs, his erection twitched and jerked, "Did you still want to?" he asked meekly.

Claire stood quickly, ditching the rest of her clothing before dropping to the floor where she'd left him, watching as he looked her over. She was aware in the back of her mind that the changes her body had faced after carrying their children were not the sort of thing you'd find on a magazine cover, no one celebrated saggy skin, scars, stretch marks, but the changes seemed to fascinate him, and if anything, held his attention.

"What are we doing?" Alfie asked, having expected to find her above him. With a hint of mischief in her eyes, she reached for his hand, and placed it on her bare thigh from an angle he hadn't expected, then dropped onto her elbow, taking him in hand, "Oh... okay."

He inched closer, kissing gently at the tender flesh where he'd left her drenched, only to jump slightly as she took him into her mouth.

As sense soon abandoned him, Alfie was perfectly aware that for the rest of his ultimate existence, he could trust that good things would come from following her lead.

* * *


	56. Chapter 56

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: Woo! New chapter! Booyah! Feels like I can make a bunch of progress if I stick to my plot notes, and this is going awwwesome.
> 
> WARNING! This chapter was hard to write, and even harder to edit, having already moved on to other stuff, so I know it's gonna be hard to read. No deaths. Well, no new ones. Nothing we haven't at least speculated on. And nobody new to hate, just established hideous beast 'on the inside, where it counts.' 
> 
> Thanks for reading! FW)

* * *

"By herself?" Ivan asked, "Kind of a long drive, since she just had a baby."

"Yeah, but, it's Claire. She wanted to do this alone. I'm just giving her the space to do it," Alfie answered. He'd set his laptop up on the kitchen table, and was rearranging things for a video conference with Naomi while Ivan kept James busy and the three little girls played in the living room. Alfie's phone chirped with a text notification causing him to set aside the power cable and check his screen, "She's busy, we've got an extra half hour to wait."

Ivan rolled his eyes, "Is she trying to jerk us around with this?"

"I can't say for sure, but I wouldn't put it past her," Alfie replied, continuing to adjust the computer, "How's Julie holding up?"

"She's good, Elijah's good, but she kind of jumped at the chance to get some peace and quiet, so this was a good idea," he replied, "So what's she picking up?"

"She hasn't said much about it, just said it was really old, and I guess she had this ancestor who was, um... Well, she was getting paid for it. This stuff was supposed to be a payment for that."

"Damn... I though that was your thing," Ivan chuckled, bouncing James gently.

* * *

Claire had already knocked when she was hit with a rough wave of hesitation that made her hope desperately that the woman she was supposed to meet wasn't home.

The small house had seen better days, and the floor creaked audibly as someone inside approached the door, but it was warm and meticulously kept.

Claire spoke up as the door opened, and a short, elderly woman appeared, "Hi, uh, my name is Claire. I'm Marian's granddaughter. A man named Crowley Alford gave me your address...?"

"You don't look like Marian," the old woman rasped, adjusting her glasses, which seemed too large for her face, "And you don't look like your mother."

"I take after my dad's side. Or, that's what they tell me," Claire replied.

The woman narrowed her eyes, exaggerating her already wrinkled skin, "Honey, I have been holding onto Marian's little heirloom for a damn good long time now. I've been very patient about this, I don't mind waiting longer. Have you got an I.D. card with your middle name, and your birth date on it?"

"My driver's license?" Claire offered.

"That would work," she affirmed, stepping back, "You come on in here, honey. We'll get this all sorted."

Claire dug into her purse and pulled her license from a card slot as she followed the woman to a meager kitchen in the back of the house.

"Now, you sit, young lady, and I'll get you some lemonade," she ordered, pointing Claire to the small table. Quickly she'd returned to the tiny table with two glasses, and eased herself into the only other chair, "Now, let's take a look. I'm not taking any chances, here."

The woman set down a small black address book she had to have picked up while fetching the lemonade, though Claire hadn't seen her do it. Claire decided she was entirely too on edge to feel so sleepy, but the temperature inside the house, and the heavy scents of cleaning products and potpourri made her head feel heavy.

Adjusting her large glasses once more, she opened the book to the name Marian Jones. Even upside down, Claire could see the address and phone number, along with the name, had been struck through with a clean diagonal line, and next to it was written a date, which was roughly near her twentieth birthday. Below that, there was more-

The woman slapped her withered hand down over the entry, "Tell me, what's your mother's name?"

"Amelia Diane Jones. Sometimes she went by Amy for short," Claire replied.

:"Maiden name?"

"Jones was her maiden name, she never married. Well, not that I know of."

"Then Jones would also be your maiden name?" she asked in a leading manner, watching Claire's face.

"No. I'm a Novak, that's what my dad put on my birth certificate," Claire answered, and held out her driver's license.

She took the small plastic card, and examined it closely, "Tell me something, my dear... You're wearing a wedding ring, but your driver's license still says Novak. Why is that?"

"I didn't change it. My husband took my name, actually, and our kids have my name. It's just the way we wanted to do things."

The eyes behind the large glasses narrowed again, and Claire was certain for a few seconds that she'd upset the woman, but she only pulled her hand away from the page, where Amelia's name, a few pieces of information, and another diagonal line and date were visible. The date, Claire was able to make out, was the date of death. Her own full name and birth date had been written below Amelia's information, and the old woman seemed satisfied that her own record matched Claire's identification, and passed it back to her, "Amelia was going to make your middle name 'Voyance.' You have Marian to thank for talking her out of it."

"She didn't do much better," Claire muttered. She offered a smile as the woman looked to her once again, and a suspicion began to grow regarding the woman's hearing.

Closing the address book and leaving the table, the old woman doddered off to another room, returning again with a red velvet box that seemed to be falling apart, "I went on Tuesday, and I took this from the bank's vault as it is. The box is crap, you need to get a new one for it. A good one, mind you. None of that cheap junk."

Claire nodded, looking over the box.

"Well, open it, honey. I know you want to take a look."

Following orders, Claire raised the lid carefully, only to set eyes on what looked very much like hammered soda can metal and loosely set sorry excuses for cut stones. There was a built up brownish residue that made her hesitant to touch them, but all the same, she gently lifted the brooch from its place. As it came away in her hand, there was a small pop as the decaying fabric it had been pinned to gave way.

The old woman gave Claire a scrutinous look over the top of her large lenses, "New box. A good one. And don't you dare try to clean those yourself, you take them to a jeweler who specializes in antiques, mind you. None of those sonic baths."

"Yes, ma'am," Claire answered, with feigned obedience, "I'd hate to have anything happen to them."

The woman gave her an authoritative nod, "Now, as that is settled... Amelia came to see me some months back, before she passed. She had a few things for you, and she wasn't sure what was going to happen to her, but she knew I had this set in safe keeping and she left them here knowing you'd be by eventually."

Claire felt a sudden surge of irritation and desperation as the old woman got up once more, and motioned for her to follow. She choked down her emotions as she was led through the heavy back door in the kitchen, across a small yard where dish towels hung on a rusty looking clothesline, to a small shed, "I didn't think she had anything left."

"Whatever it is, it's not mine, it's yours. You need to take it out of here," she answered, unlocking the door. She abruptly turned on Claire, making Claire jump, "Did I see you at Marian's funeral?"

"Uh, no... Um, I didn't find out she'd passed away until my dad tried to contact her about coming to my wedding. I'm sorry. I didn't even know where she lived."

"You didn't know her."

"No."

The woman huffed as she turned back to the door, jiggling the corroded knob, "Well, she loved you just the same. Your damned mother got in the way."

The door opened into a stuffy, dry, dust-filled storage space lined with racks of boxes and odds and ends. The old woman stepped aside, pointing to a low shelf just inside the door, directing Claire to pick it up.

"That one, there. Anything she put in it is still there, I won't be held accountable for it. All she asked was to leave it, and leave it, she did. Would've been better to leave you, some years back, give you to Marian, and I told her so myself! But I don't see any tattoos or funny hair, so you must have turned out all right," she grumbled, slamming the door shut again with a force Claire hadn't expected from her. Locking it once more, she preceded her into the house, where Claire set the box down just long enough to put the case of jewelry into the top of the box, and then followed her awkward hostess to the front door.

"There we are. All done. You have a very nice life, dear, and don't you dare turn out anything like that Amelia," she said, tugging open the front door.

Claire nodded dumbly as she stepped out onto the porch, "Uh, thank you. Thanks for keeping these for me, and if I can return the favor in some-"

"No! No, we will not be doing that. I'll be dead soon enough myself, and I'm not in the market for any more friends. Just means more handkerchiefs getting soaked at the church when it's my time. It's not for me. Goodbye, dear."

The door closed again abruptly, leaving Claire staring, wondering at the antics of the woman who's name she hadn't even received. She closed her mouth once she realized it was open, shook her head and made for her car, muttering to herself, "What a weirdo."

* * *

The front door of the shop swung open with Margaret's rather cheerful presence, and Lucas looked up from the keyboard, spreading his hands, "Hey. You're welcome."

"Why? What's up?" she asked.

"I banned the asshole. Buh-bye, no more Fred Hughes. Not here, not at the other place, persona non grata."

"Yeah? Great," Margaret replied.

"Also, you called it. Asshole came around here trying that shit, I just dragged Melody out of here, told Claire I'm not watching her," Lucas said, turning back to the screen.

Margaret's expression dropped, "What?"

"Yeah."

"No, what happened?" Margaret asked more firmly, "And when?"

"Not much," Dean butted in, shuffling past her, "And two days ago. Melody's fine, Claire's a little shook up, and this jackass told the kid the creepy stranger was gonna cut off her toes, but other than that, no problem. Cas took Alfie in to make a little report about it yesterday."

"How can you make a report about something that's not a problem? What did he do? Do we have his address? Because I'm not scared to cut a bitch," Margaret replied.

Dean shook his head, "Her parents are handling it."

"She didn't even call me," Margaret fussed, "Is she coming in today?"

"Not for work," Dean replied, reordering the manuals on the top shelf, "But she called me from the road, she's bringing a box of crap to Cas in an hour or so. Don't hound her, okay?"

Margaret looked up at the clock above the desk that gave the early hour of the afternoon, "Fine," she muttered.

* * *

It had been a mediocre day. Dean was looking forward to closing up and heading home, and shortly after Cas' car had arrived, which happened while he hadn't been paying attention, Claire's pulled in. He was aware of it as Margaret clocked out early, which was no big surprise as they weren't busy, and it wasn't long before he made his own way home.

Entering the house, he found the other three at the kitchen table, a large cardboard box sitting off to the side with several smaller items on the table, and Cas was carefully taking a cotton swab to what looked like it might have been an earring, if it had been run over by a car a few times, and buried in soot. Claire was flipping through a well worn small book that Dean recognized, as it had come home in Cas' suitcase, and Margaret was reading over her shoulder.

"Got your ancient hooker jewelry, huh?" Dean asked as he opened the fridge.

"Yeah, turns out she wasn't a hooker, she was this guy's totally socially acceptable mistress," Claire replied, "Family history got it wrong. He gave her a house, and they had kids, not at all what I was expecting."

"You thought the guy bought her off," Dean guessed.

"Yeah, I did. Also, they came from Hungary, which I hadn't heard before. Cool stuff."

"And you got to meet your grandma's friend, how'd that go?" Dean asked.

Claire shook her head, "She's old, really weird, and just kind of shoved me out the door after I had everything. Didn't even want to talk. It was... well, really weird. Anyway, I know I said I wanted them gone, but I think I might tell Crowley to put them away for Mel anyway... I mean, she might have been connected, but it really didn't have anything to do with my mother. And Melody doesn't need to know."

Margaret pointed to the cardboard box, "There's a little lock-box in there, no key, but there's stuff inside it."

Dean circled the table, peering down into the box, where, among a few other items, he found a painted green aluminum box, covered over with scuffs and scratches. It was old, that was obvious, and the metal was torn in a few places. He pulled it out and held it up, "This?"

"Yeah, I thought you might know what to do with it. If not, I was going to take some tin snips to the hinge," Claire answered as he sat down, looking it over. He pulled a pocket knife from his jeans and removed the tweezers, which had been modified some time ago when his lock picks had gone missing, and set about working the tiny tumblers.

"Looks a little rusted," Dean commented.

Cas held out the earring to Claire for her closer inspection, "Careful. The stones are very loose. The whole set needs work, from someone who knows more than I do."

Claire set the book aside and accepted the earring delicately. The tiny patch that had been cleaned no longer resembled hammered trash, but had an intricate design, and the stone was a brilliant shade that captured the light so well it nearly glowed, "Wow... Hey, what if we just ruined the whole thing by doing that? That'd be pretty funny, right?"

"You mean only now that you stopped talking about smashing them up with a hammer?" Margaret asked, picking up the open booklet.

Claire smirked and passed the earring back to her father, "Maybe Crowley can line somebody up for that, and get it done right."

"Yes, well, in the meantime they should be-" Cas began.

"Shit!" Margaret yelped, drawing Claire's attention, "Check out how much they were valued at in nineteen-fifty-four..."

Claire's eyes darted across the open pages to the figure at the tip of Margaret's finger, "Shit," she reiterated.

"Yeah. And apparently the minute the duke, or count or whatever croaked, his wife ran off your hooker granny, she had to take her kids and leave the country," Margaret continued, "Later on, when whoever had them wanted to move to America, the set was sewn into the lining of their daughter's coat."

"I guess that makes sense," Claire replied.

"Looks like that was your grandma's grandma."

Claire's face screwed up slightly as she thought carefully, " Wait, which generation would I be from the hooker granny?"

"Your grandma was eighth, so you'd be tenth, Melody and James would be the eleventh," Margaret answered.

"That's a long-ass time to hold onto something," Dean commented quietly.

A quiet fell over the room for several seconds before Claire shifted awkwardly in her seat, "Okay, I think I've made up my mind... This is bigger than me, I don't have any right to keep my kids from inheriting these. Not over something this stupid."

"You have every right," Cas answered, "But I'm sure you'll do what you think is best."

"Yeah, but getting rid of them because I hate my mother is just as stupid as pawning them for drugs. I'll call Crowley tomorrow and see what he can do about safe keeping."

"Any luck?" Margaret asked as she looked across the table to Dean, who was absorbed in his current challenge and only gave a small shake of his head.

"Did she mention anything about this stuff she left in that message on your phone, Dad?" Claire asked, her voice taking a more solemn tone.

Cas shrugged, pulling his phone from his pocket, "Not that I would have picked up on. Maybe you'd know it better than I would, if you want to listen to it."

Claire tossed a look to Dean, who was bent over the small metal box, and Margaret, dipping into the booklet with the voracity of a teenage girl with a romance novel, and chuckled, "Yeah, uh, porch?"

Nodding, Cas stood and followed after her.

On the front porch, each taking a seat in the same chairs Bobby had put there originally, Cas looked down at his phone for a moment, "You're certain you're up to this?"

"Yeah, I'm doing a lot better today," Claire replied.

Cas opened the voice recorder and selected the only file made during his trip, and passed her the phone. She took several seconds and steadied herself before she pressed play.

 _"Claire... I know,"_ the voice on the recording was halting and raspy, _"I can't really tell you that I'm sorry, because sorry is never, ever going to be good enough. Not for what I did... I let go of all control I had over myself, and I dragged you down with me, and I can never make that right for you. But everybody tells me that-... that you're nothing like me. I'm glad to hear that, hearing that you came out of it okay, and went to college, and... You're nothing like me. That's how I know you'll be okay, and your kids are gonna be just fine."_

The voice continued as it broke, audibly tearful, if still very weak and showing signs of growing weaker with the occasional gasp, _"I'm so proud of you! God, if I hadn't been stuck in my own little world, I would have seen you growing up and taking charge of your life, and you have so much that I never could have done for you..."_

 _"Amy, if you need a break-"_ Cas' voice was faint, but gentle.

Amelia no longer seemed to be speaking into the phone, _"No... That's it... I should have left her with you when you asked me the first time..."_

Claire's breathing had changed far more than her expression let on as she played it through a second time. A breeze whistled through the cracked window of a junked car further off as the porch went quiet.

"She didn't love me," Claire said quietly, her voice hard.

"Claire, that's-... That's quite a leap."

"She would've said it. I would have said it, you would have said it. She was dying. She knew this was the last thing I'd hear from her, and she didn't say it," Claire's words picked up speed, tears beginning to roll down her cheeks, "She couldn't say it because it wasn't true. She never loved anybody."

"You're very upset right now, but-"

"People only existed to her to be used. It explains everything. She never loved me."

Cas was quiet as Claire sniffled, wiped her eyes, and passed him back the phone, "She was proud of you..."

"I never wanted to make her proud, Dad. Everybody else in my life, yeah, but not her. I think I probably knew the whole time... I don't feel bad about not going, now."

Cas nodded and reached to put an arm around Claire's shoulders, "I'm sorry. I know this has been hard for you."

"What did she mean, the first time?" Claire asked quietly, the edge coming off her voice.

"I asked her when she told me she was moving. I asked her a few times after that, to let you live with me. The last time, I think, was when she was complaining about having to enroll you in school, and she said the paperwork was too extensive."

* * *

Continuing to tinker with the metal box, Dean sat back as the box suddenly eased open in his hands. The squeak of the hinge drew Margaret's attention, and Dean withdrew several photographs from the top of the stack within.

"What is it?" Margaret asked as he began leafing through them.

Dean held up one, "Pictures of Claire."

"Why would that be locked?" Margaret mused.

With his free hand, Dean pulled a few crumpled five dollar bills from the back of the box, near the hinge, "Double purpose, maybe. Unfortunately, there might also be drugs in here, so-..."

Margaret watched as the color drained from Dean's face, his eyes fixed on something out of her line of vision, something inside the metal box. He set the photos and cash back inside, resting an elbow on the table and his face in his hand. She was about to question him, but at the sound of the front door he reached forward and snapped it shut with a look in his eyes that worried her.

"Any luck with the box?" Cas asked as he came around the corner.

"Nope," Dean replied, turning his attention to Claire, "How you doing, kiddo? You're okay?"

Claire nodded, "Yeah, that was enlightening. Not about any of this stuff, but, I'm okay. I gotta get home, though, I've been gone all day. Can I leave this stuff here and come get it tomorrow?"

Dean nodded, "Yeah, give me some time to work on this, I'll let you know."

"Okay. Margaret, you want to come see the kids?" Claire asked.

Dean sat up a bit straighter, at the same time realizing Margaret was watching him closely, "No, uh, I actually need her to stick around. Schedule stuff."

"Schedule stuff," Margaret repeated, giving Claire a nod, "Tomorrow?"

"Sure," Claire replied, starting for the door, "I'll see you guys."

"Later!" Margaret called after her, rounding on Dean as the door swung shut, "Okay, seriously?"

"Don't," Dean pleaded.

"Are you kidding me?"

Cas looked between them both, "What's going on?"

"I lied," Dean said quickly, "I got it open, and-..."

"What's going on you couldn't tell her you found her baby pictures?" Margaret demanded.

"Claire's baby pictures?" Cas asked, coming closer, reaching for the metal box.

Dean snatched the box from the table and got up quickly, his actions erratic, "Don't open it... Look, I just need a little time to make sure this thing has a bad accident in the barbecue grill."

Cas was taken aback, but Margaret quickly jumped to arguing, "You are not torching her baby pictures! What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Those aren't just baby pictures!" Dean snapped, "And with every fucking thing that bitch took from her, if she doesn't know, she deserves to keep it that way!"

"Know what?" Cas asked carefully, "What did you find in there?"

Dean shook his head, going quiet, and blinked back his natural reaction forcefully.

"I think I know what it is," Margaret said softly, "Claire told me her mom gave her LSD once, it might have been, might have been something else. She said she woke up later on her bed and her clothes were gone, and her mom was joking about how high she got... It'd make sense why she's got issues about having her picture taken, and sleeping."

Dean's voice was hoarse as he continued holding back, "She's mentioned it... Said it was to cheer her up when she missed her seventh grade field trip... Amelia's lucky she's already dead-"

"Dean," Cas said gently, "Put it down, please."

"If Claire has no idea these even exist, then-"

"What she doesn't know won't hurt her... Literally, it could hurt her to find these, we'd be doing her a favor," Margaret said firmly.

"What?" Cas asked.

"I'll do it," Margaret said solemnly, "I'll take it home, sort them out in private, nobody ever has to know. A few stray bucks and... And normal, clothed pictures from when she was a kid. That's a nice thing to have, right? She might want those pictures. Anything else, I'll burn. Never leaves this room."

Dean set the box on the table, his grip loose as Cas wrapped his arms around him, and anger finally cut through him, giving way to a stifled sob against Cas' shoulder.

"Are you sure you're comfortable with that?" Cas asked.

"No part of this is comfortable. But what other options do we have? Hand her the whole stack? With all the stress she's been under? Or you guys? I don't think so. And I'm not about to suggest Alfie, he compartmentalizes pretty well, but he doesn't need to see that. I don't think he could handle it, or keep his mouth shut."

"You're a good friend to her, Margaret," Cas said quietly, "But it's still a lot to take on. If it's too much, just burn the whole thing, I'll tell her it's lost. Outdoors, and where you won't breathe it, of course."

Margaret set the booklet down next to the aged case that contained the jewelry, and circled the table, pausing to contribute to the ensuing hug before scooping up the metal box and stowing it in her bag. She then made quickly for the front door.

The small house was quiet until Cas shifted in place, bringing a gentle hand up to the back of Dean's shoulders, "Dean...? What did you see?"

"Nothing was happening, looks like... She looked passed out... But it wasn't the only polaroid in the box. There were a bunch more."

* * *

Margaret had waited until Mike was in bed before locking herself in the guest room under the guise of 'work.' Kevin had eyed the box suspiciously, but when asked, she'd only responded by asking him how badly he needed to know every detail of her life, and he accepted the very obvious hint.

She'd gone through each dusty photograph, carefully looking for nudity, but also, misery. Any picture that appeared to contain a very unhappy version of Claire was quickly set aside. Out of over a hundred and sixty pictures, she salvaged roughly thirty.

Closing the metal box, she stacked the offending chaff on top, and went through the small door to the adjoined patio. An outdoor fireplace, an addition Rachel had had to have, added years ago, was rarely used, but suited Margaret's purpose just fine. She resolved to go through the box once more after her task of incinerating most of her photographs was done, just to be safe.

She pictured in her mind's eye what Claire's reaction would have been, had she been able to open the box. Or worse, opened it in private. She wondered if Claire would have been fazed at all, or if she was so damaged that it would have barely registered.

Lighting the flame and setting the screen in place, she stepped back with the rest of the box, waiting to be certain each one was completely destroyed. She would be thorough. The images would never again see the light of day.

The large glass door from the living room opened, and she was easily aware of Kevin's soft footsteps approaching, expecting it when he settled his hands on her shoulders, leaning over her to greet her with a quick kiss, "Burning the evidence?"

"It's complicated," she answered, recognizing his gentle prodding for what it was; an attempt to get her to talk.

Kevin took a deep breath through his nose, "Okay... How was work?"

"Dean locked a former customer's file to keep me out of it."

"Is that what we're burning? Or are we getting symbolic?" Kevin asked, taking a chair.

Margaret shook her head, "Have you heard from Alfie?"

"Uh, been a couple days."

"Call him. He needs to vent."

"Tomorrow... So," Kevin paused to yawn, then jerked a thumb at the fireplace, "What kind of evidence?"

"If I told you, you'd cry. I know I did... Anyway, I'm doing this to help someone, not cover for them, and I need you to forget this ever happened, okay?"

Kevin's trepidation was evident on his face as he shifted in his seat. His voice was quite and high with anxiousness, "You're starting to scare me, beautiful."

Reaching to the box on the table, Margaret popped the lid open a short distance, "I can't talk about this, but if you figure it out on your own, I know you'll keep quiet... If you found a locked container with nude photos of somebody who was obviously underage, and there was money in there, would you think they were connected?"

"Any other explanation would be pretty damn improbable. Somebody was selling them?"

Slipping her hand inside, Margaret let the lid fall on her hand, closing as she withdrew it, holding the three five dollar bills. She passed the cash to him and gestured to the fire, "Do you mind throwing that in for me?"

Kevin studied her face curiously, "Mags, if somebody's hurting a kid, we have-"

"The kid is an adult, and the asshole is dead," she said, cutting him off, "I don't think the kid in question knows... There's no justice there, just a whole lot of pain."

Kevin nodded, and Margaret expected him to voice his guess as his anger swelled, but he only approached the flames, and threw the money into the fire. She watched him move as he dragged his chair next to hers, sitting down to put an arm around her. Given his inescapable intellect, she was certain he'd figured it out, but his silence made clear his agreement that the destruction was appropriate, and the secret would be kept.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N2: The next chapter takes place in six years. There will be a reminder. If I've left out anything, the places to challenge me to a swordfish fight are, in order: Twitter, @fythyrwisp, and Tumblr.)


	57. Chapter 57

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: Time for some well deserved recognition. Also, foreshadowing, if you tilt your head and squint... Ha! Made you do the confused-Cas look! [kidding]
> 
> I found out through twitter that the Down to Agincourt saga might have some new stuff soon, if that happens, I may do a whole re-read [yes, it's that good] so, if I drop off the face of the planet, I'm probably not dead. Just a warning.
> 
> Thanks for reading! I will continue to try to answer questions and fix my continuity errors as they pop up. FW)

* * *

**Six Years Later**

* * *

_The junk yard was unusually still, the summer sun beating down on her with no sign of a breeze, and the places it glinted off of old chrome, torn edges of metal, and dusty glass hurt her eyes. She carried the part she'd needed to salvage in front of her with both hands, the toolbag heavy where the strap weighed sharply on her wrist._

_The yard was a maze of stacks, and she had been at the furthest corner digging it out of an old red Cadillac, sweating through her clothes inside her coveralls._

_...Something was following her back to the shop._

_Claire looked over her shoulder regularly, certain something was just behind her. The first few times, nothing was visible, but then shadows, whispers, and a misty figure began to sneak into her perception._

_Her concern growing, she altered course and was soon walking past the small house where she'd lived for some time, where her daughter had been born, and her fathers now lived, sure to find safety nearby. It took far longer than she'd expected, and the figure became more visible each time she spotted it._

_On the front porch of the small house within the junkyard, a familiar person sat silently, cleaning his guns as she'd seen him do many times when she was a teenager, a time far enough back to feel like another lifetime, but also, somehow, only yesterday. Bobby Singer looked up as she came closer, and then to the apparition that followed her._

_"Hey Bobby," Claire said, glancing over her shoulder to the mist that was taking a more condensed shape as she spoke, "Does this thing live here in the yard?"_

_"Never seen it before. If it's bothering you, though, just tell it to get lost. It might work," he answered._

_Claire gave it another glance, "Has that ever happened before?"_

_Bobby shrugged, "Can't hurt. There's no harm in telling somebody to leave you alone. Hell, why do you think I live out here in the first place? No H.O.A. bugging me about my grass being too tall, or the shutters not the right color of pink."_

_The hot air made it difficult to breathe, and the figure came closer, pressing on Claire's upper arm, "Cut it out."_

_"Maybe a little more forceful-like?" Bobby coached._

_The apparition pushed against her, rocking her heavily, nearly causing her to lose her balance, but she saw no way to press back._

* * *

"Get off my ass, y'stupid fog!" Claire mumbled firmly.

"Mom?" Melody asked, taken aback.

Claire's eyes popped open to find her nine year old at the side of her bed. She sat up quickly, "I'm sorry, sweetie, I was dreaming, I didn't know it was you."

"All the lights don't work, and the kitchen wall clock says it's after seven."

"Crap," Claire muttered, climbing out of the bed, "Did you eat breakfast?"

The heat was understandable, given the weather in a southern state in late April and no air conditioning. She glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand to find its face blank as she hurried to the closet, tugging out a pair of jeans and a shirt.

"Yeah. And Jaime's eating now. Are we gonna be late for school?" Melody asked.

"Not if we're very, very quick about it, so let's try to make that happen, okay? Go get dressed."

The moment Melody was out of the room, Claire stripped and dressed herself at lightening speed, only pausing in Jaime's room for an outfit before traipsing downstairs to find him, as expected, at the kitchen table.

"Jaime, why aren't you wearing your jammies?" she asked, slipping the small shirt over his head as he chewed his half soggy cereal.

"Because I didn't," he answered.

Claire drew a deep breath as she gently worked his arms through the short sleeves one at a time, muttering under her breath, "Choose your battles. Choose your battles."

Pausing to allow Jaime to stuff another bite in his mouth only to realize due to the awkwardness of it that he was using a serving spoon, Claire turned his chair to face her and dropped into a crouch.

"Did you wet your bed and leave your wet clothes in the bathroom instead of waking me up?" she asked.

Jaime shook his head.

"These underwear are clean?"

He nodded.

"Okay," she replied, sliding his shorts up to his knees, and then up over his bottom as he slid off the chair, reaching for his bowl again. She set his velcro sneakers and a pair of socks down on the chair behind him, "Get your shoes on, we've gotta go."

Turning around, she found Melody fully dressed, waiting patiently with a brush and a hair tie, and with a few quick strokes, quickly had her hair in a short ponytail. She dragged the same brush through her own hair as Melody marched off to the coat closet, retrieving backpacks for herself and her brother, and sat down on the armchair closest to the door.

Jaime, still lacking a shoe, left the table at the sound of scratching at the back door. Throwing it open wide, and sitting down directly in it's path to put his other shoe on, the family's chocolate lab trotted in happily, tracking clumps of nearly dry dirt on the floor.

Claire ran a hand over her face, watching the amount of dirt coming off the dog, shook her head, and pulled Jaime away from the door by his armpits just far enough to close it, then went to the living room to get her purse.

"I'll sweep it," Jaime declared, getting to his feet.

"Leave it," Claire answered, "We need to hurry, and Daddy had to have his cleaning service, we might as well leave something for them."

Jaime patted the dog just above her tail as he passed her where she'd stopped to gulp at her oversized water bowl, "Bye, Cocoa."

Shepherding the children out onto the porch, she stopped, the door still cracked behind her as she realized the new sedan was not in the driveway.

"Are you looking for the car?" Jaime asked.

"It's at the shop," Melody answered.

"I know that! I'm not dumb!" Jaime snapped.

"Stop!" Claire called out over both of them, "Jaime, grab the extra booster from the closet. We'll take mine."

Jaime ducked back inside as Melody looked up at her mother, "How old is your car?"

"Older than me," she answered absently.

"Wow... That's _really_ old."

* * *

Cas hurried along from one end of the school to the other, accepting high-fives from students in the crowded hallways as he went. The crowd was filtering out of the halls and into the classes, but he was attempting to beat the bell.

Stepping into one of the social studies classrooms, he found it half-full of students already, "Mrs Schmidt, can I get a word, please?"

"Cutting it close," the teacher answered, coming to the door and dodging an incoming student as she followed him into the now much emptier hall, "You know this bunch gets riled up if I'm not in there on time."

"Rita, we got a call from the factory, your husband was having chest pain, they took him to the emergency room. Donna's going to drive you, and we've let the high school know to contact your mother about picking up David and Laurie. I'll take over the class, is everything on the desk?"

Rita nodded dumbly.

"Where's your purse?" Cas asked, watching her face for some sign that she wasn't about to crack.

"Um, it's under the desk," she said quietly.

Cas quickly had it in hand and passed it to her at the doorway as he spotted Donna approaching them, "Try to stay calm. I know it's upsetting, but speaking from experience, the cardiac unit at the hospital know what they're doing."

She took a few deep breaths, nodding, clearly holding back as Donna reached her, leading her back toward the office by the shoulders.

Entering the room once more, Cas addressed the class firmly, "Please take your seats."

Looking up periodically as he searched the desk for Rita's lesson plan, mentally preparing himself to handle the eighth graders before him, he noticed a hand, "Yes?"

It was Mike. Mike, who was turning out very much like his father, "Mr Novak, did you just fire Mrs Schmidt?"

"No, Mr Tran, I did not. She has a family emergency and needs to leave. I would strongly encourage you all to keep the Schmidt family in your thoughts, and be kind to her when she returns."

"Did somebody die?"

"No."

"Well-"

"We do have a lesson today, and with your luck, Mr Tran, it'll be crucial to your next test."

Mike slowly lowered his hand as a chuckle went through the room. Cas resumed looking over the desk, which was in a state of disarray, "While I am setting up, does anyone have any comments or questions regarding Mrs Schmidt's last lesson?"

* * *

Having stopped at the newer location and found her bloodsugar dropping, she'd sent a text to Margaret, turned things over to Randy and made for the diner.

"Hey," she said, dropping heavily into a booth across from Margaret, who she'd spotted from the door, "Guess who's power went out last night?"

"Is it out at the shop, too?"

Claire shook her head, "I didn't stop to check, I was trying to get the kids to school."

Julie reached the table just as Claire covered a large yawn, "I haven't seen you guys in a while, how's stuff?"

"If you give me coffee, I'll be your best friend," Claire answered.

"Sitting right here, bitch!" Margaret spouted sarcastically with a fake gasp.

"Like you weren't just making the same offer before I got here?" Claire asked with a raised eyebrow.

Julie chuckled, "I hate school schedules too, and our summer schedule is pretty much the same, since daycare, and all. So, besides coffee...?"

Claire shrugged, "Whatever's good and fast, I have to get back to work, we have a backlog."

"Garage time? But your nails!" Margaret kidded, knowing Claire was looking forward to it.

Julie nodded, "Eggs, bacon, hashbrowns with onion. Got it."

"Pancakes and sausage for me," Margaret added, "If she passes out before you get back, we can poke her with a stick."

* * *

"Hey, Dean?" Blake's voice came down from above him.

"Yeah?" Dean asked, curious why the car over the pit hadn't moved as expected.

"Uh, don't panic, but I think maybe the brakes locked up."

From his seat on the narrow, shallow ladder, Lucas gave a snort that devolved into a chuckle.

"Are you serious? You're not just messing around, right? Because I have to leave early today," Dean stressed.

"Hot date with the ball and chain, huh?" Lucas asked quietly.

Dean shot him a warning look as Javier, the newest addition to the small company, crossed the shop in an attempt to be of help, "Is it in neutral, or park?"

"Uh..."

"Blake?" Dean called, "Something I need to know?"

"Um, this might be easier if we got you to look at it, but, um, this might be a while," Blake admitted sheepishly, popping the hood.

"Great," Dean muttered, "Just great... If you don't spot the problem pretty damn fast, call Randy."

Lucas began to chuckle once more, drawing Dean's attention and ire, "We're stuck in the same hole. I'm putting that on Twitter."

"Don't," Dean said quickly, "Don't you dare. Anything that's online that has to do with me, has to do with Cas. You leave me out of it."

"It's anonymous, I never use names, not even mine. You'd know that if you followed me."

Dean rolled his eyes, "I told you, I don't do that crap."

Lucas opened his mouth slightly, thought better of whatever age-related objection had come to mind, closed his mouth, shook his head, and turned his attention back to his phone.

* * *

At home, Cas checked his watch. It had been a long day. He'd forgotten how strenuous substituting for middle school classes could be, and no one else had been available to take over.

From a call on the drive home he'd learned that Rita's husband had in fact had a heart attack, but was doing well, and mentally began taking into consideration who would be able to step in for the next week. He'd been lost in his thoughts, washing up and dressing for the evening event in town, he'd lost track of time... And apparently so had Dean.

He'd been about to call when the door opened, and Dean started past him for the stairs, "I didn't forget! I know, I know, the awards dinner, I was stuck in the pit, had to take the brakes off and put the wheels back on. I'm getting ready now. Black tie?"

"Yes, it's... Dean, are you alright?"

Dean backtracked a few steps, planting a quick, clumsy kiss, "Shower, and then we're going. Promise."

Hearing the water turn on upstairs he made for the bedroom and pulled Dean's suit from the closet, noting that his new dress shoes were still in the box. Setting them out on the bed, he discovered the tags were still on, and set about removing them.

"I had to sub for one of Mike's classes today," he called through the open bathroom door.

"Yeah?" Dean replied.

"He's gotten taller, I think. His attitude seems to be improving."

"Well, that's good. That crap he pulled at Palo Duro last summer, he needed that little reset," Dean mused, still furiously scrubbing grime from his arms. During the summer break, Ben had somehow talked Dean into arranging a camping trip. Xander had been busy, Sam had brought his sons, now eight, and Kevin had managed to take the week off at the last minute, forbidding Mike from bringing any electronics whatsoever. The trip had been fairly enlightening all around.

"Yes, well, we'll see if it takes."

The water shut off and he heard the furious movements of the towel as Dean continued to work quickly, "Remind me about this dinner thing, are you up for something, or are we supposed to just be there for the other people?"

"Sandra Pickett is being given a lifetime service award, and there going to be a few other people recognized, but they aren't saying who, or what for," Cas answered, "The district prefers to play these things close to the vest."

"Right," Dean muttered, hurrying through the process of dressing as Cas stood by, handing him items one at a time, "Tiny little school district, everybody up in each other's business, can't warn a guy when he can skip this stuff or if he needs to show up..."

"Dean, I hope I'm not-"

"No! No, not complaining about going, just complaining about how they run this stuff. I'm there. This is a big deal, I know. You bust your ass for these people, the least they could do is say 'Hey, you done good.'"

Dean held still as Cas settled his tie around his upturned collar, tying it quickly as Dean began turning it down, "I'm happy to support my colleagues, and I'm happy to do my best for the students. That doesn't mean I'd rather go to this formal dinner rather than sit on the couch watching some movie you've seen enough times to memorize, it just means-"

"Hey, it shakes things up a little, and plans date-night for us. What other time are we gonna need these monkey suits? ...You look good, am I living up to that?" Dean asked.

"Stunning," Cas replied, smoothing the front of Dean's shirt. He gently corrected a few errant pieces of Dean's still damp hair, and checked that the back of his jacket collar was in place.

There was some back and forth on the way through the house concerning who's car would be used, with the final decision falling upon Dean's classic Impala which hadn't been driven in a week. According to him, and Cas was not about to argue with his mechanic - one of his mechanics, anyway - vehicles often fell into disrepair through a lack of use. Also, Cas' car needed washed, and Dean was biting his tongue about it.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

Cas turned to look at him more directly as he drove, "You never complain about accompanying me to work functions, even when I can tell you'd rather not be there. Why is that?"

"If I had a real career, I know you'd do it for me. And you wouldn't bitch about it, either. You'd be there on time, and you'd back me up a hundred and ten percent. The least I can do is show up, wear a tie, and keep my pie-hole shut."

"You don't think being a successful business owner is a career? The chamber of commerce-"

"I think we know who's been calling the shots for a while, now. I'm just smart enough to get her to say it like I'm still in charge of stuff. If I was really any good outside of the garage, we'd have another two locations by now... And the chamber can kiss my ass, not since they made me get their damn regulation-sized sign up in town," roughly a mile passed, the town coming into view before Dean took notice of the eyes still turned in his direction. Another half mile passed before he questioned the stare, "What?"

"You're cute when you're angry," Cas deadpanned.

"Don't you start... Are you gonna make a speech?"

"Not if I limit my alcohol," Cas answered wryly, making Dean smirk.

* * *

Claire arrived at the small venue a few minutes early, as Charlie had requested, and parked her fairly recognizable car off in an isolated corner of the lot. She was nearly through the doors when she spotted Dean's car turning the corner, and hurried inside.

A familiar near-squeal drew her attention to Charlie, who quickly tugged her aside, off to a secluded area out of sight, "Okay, tell me where the hell you got that dress!"

"A specialty shop in Paris," Claire admitted sheepishly, "And the color was Alfie's doing. He's the only one who can figure out a red that works for me, they dyed it and shipped it. It was stuck in customs for a month."

Charlie gaped, "So, I don't want to know how much it cost, do I?"

Claire chuckled, "Three days with my mother in law. You'd be better off selling your soul."

"Looks like it was worth every minute," Charlie replied, "Okay, so the small potatoes kind of throw-away stuff is happening before the big one, where we're recognizing Mrs Pickett, all four people getting the token awards are coming up to the front, in front of the stage, then you guys are coming out to had them the frames, we left empty chairs without name cards at the tables so you can sit down with them after."

"Uh... Not to be dismissive, but does this feel like a huge deal over nothing to you?" Claire asked with a gently skeptical look.

Charlie shrugged, "We live in the middle of nowhere. We have nothing else to do but make huge deals out of nothing. And your dad isn't nothing, right? It's a crap award, except to the person receiving it. And, you know, you being here is gonna boost it a little, so make it count, okay? Do it for Cas."

Claire nodded, and Charlie quickly ushered her into the small room next to the stage to wait with the other three surprise presenters.

* * *

"I want to call Daddy," Jaime fussed as Cyndi attempted to tuck him in for the third time, having learned to sit at the top of the stairs until he went five minutes without leaving his room to save her several trips up the stairs.

"Your daddy has a big thing tonight, he might not be able to pick up right now," she reasoned.

"Can you check?"

Rolling her eyes, Cyndi pulled her phone from her pocket and pretended to send a text, waiting with her thumb on the screen for a few seconds before activating her alert chime, "Okay, he says it's too loud there right now, he wouldn't be able to hear you. But he's going to talk to you tomorrow."

Jaime settled, adjusting his arm awkwardly across the face of his bear as she turned off his lamp once again, and left the room. She'd barely sat down when Melody's door opened quietly.

"I forgot to brush my teeth," she said quietly, and headed straight to the bathroom.

Within seconds, Jaime was hovering in his doorway, "How come Mel gets to stay up and I don't?"

"She's not staying up, she's in the bathroom," Cyndi replied, getting to her feet for what she desperately hoped was the final round.

* * *

In a district with four elementary schools, two middle schools, and only one high school, it seemed almost farcical to have an award for 'Principal of the Year,' but all the same, the district did have one. And despite the minuscule pool from which to draw, Cas had never quite made the cut.

The year Gabe was selected, he'd later privately joked to Cas that he'd be hanging it in his bathroom in case he ran out of two-ply, but despite the seeming worthlessness of the piece of printed paper, he had hung it up in his office at the elementary school all the same.

The limelight was short, and shared with the teacher of the year, the administrator of the year, and the volunteer of the year, but during the recognition, Claire had emerged from nowhere, dressed up for the occasion and passed him the framed certificate with a big smile, her congratulations drowned in the din of the crowd, but clearly expressed with a big hug. Over her shoulder, he caught sight of Dean, who seemed to be more genuinely enthused than the last several events he'd willingly been dragged along to.

* * *

Leaving Dean and Cas to hold down the fort, Claire collected Cyndi and began the short trip to get the sixteen year old home.

"This is, what? Three weekends in a row? I'm not killing your social life, am I?" Claire asked.

"Not by much. It beats working at Mom's diner, that's for sure," Cyndi replied.

"Just don't think we're going to suddenly drop you for saying no. You've got school, family, and friends, sometimes those have to take priority over work."

"Nah, I'm good. I'm not exactly aiming for prom queen," Cyndi answered, aware that Claire could relate.

Claire nodded, making the turn onto her street and pulled up to the curb. She dug into her purse and pulled out several bills, passing them to Cyndi as she was getting out of the car. 

Over the sound of the engine, Cyndi balked, "This is three hundred bucks."

"Call it a bonus and an apology, and don't answer any messages from me until after next weekend."

"I can't take this."

"Yeah you can. Besides, if you start saving for a car, I won't have to drive you... Just a thought."

With a brief hesitation, Cyndi relented, "Okay... Thank you."

"Hey, thank _you._ I know my kids are a handful, and I know they're safe and happy with you. That's worth a lot more than you give yourself credit for."

Managing a tired, but grateful smile, Cyndi closed the car door and made her way inside. She almost managed to get to the safety of the top of the stairs unnoticed, but Julie came around the corner with a large basket of laundry, "Oh, good. Your dad called. If you're still up in an hour, he wants you to call him."

"Why?"

"To talk to you," Julie answered, "He misses you when he's on tour, you know that. He got to speak to Susie and Eli, and he's not exactly asking for much."

"Maybe if he wasn't living out of the guest room when he's not on tour, he'd come home more, and then we wouldn't have to schedule these things," Cyndi answered with a huff, resuming her trek to her room.

Julie shook her head, obviously hurt by her words, but steadied herself, "We both know this is hard on you and your brother and sister, but what's going on with me and Dad is complicated, okay? We are doing our best to keep all of this stress off of you kids, you could at least go easy on us while we figure it out."

"Whatever," Cyndi mumbled dismissively before locking herself in her room.

* * *


	58. Chapter 58

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: Had a slight delay. Some of it is coming out in chunks, though, so once I get on a roll, this is going to go fast.
> 
> Thanks for reading! FW)

* * *

"Did you know?" Cas asked, still on a mild high from the evening.

"No," Dean replied quietly, as they sat somewhat entwined in Claire's darkened living room, waiting for her return.

"She didn't tell you?"

"You think she tells me stuff?" Dean asked.

Cas shrugged, "Yes?"

"Yeah, okay, she tells me stuff, but she didn't tell me this, or I would have had some flowers ready to add to it," Dean answered quietly, close to Cas' ear.

Cas turned the frame to catch the dim light coming from the kitchen, looking at his full name in a delicate script, "It's not worth the paper it's printed on, you know? Hannah's received it twice."

Dean gave an indignant snort, "She doesn't deserve it. You do. You kept getting passed over on this one, that's not fair. You need, like, a trophy, or something."

"That's headlights," Cas said softly, spotting the small motion of light playing across the walls through the decorative glass in the front door. Dean pressed a kiss to Cas' neck just behind the corner of his jaw before getting up from the couch, both of them quietly slipping outside, careful not to wake the children sleeping upstairs.

After a quick parting with Claire, they started home along the unlit road. Dean slowed a step to cross behind Cas, and took his free hand, "You looked good up there tonight."

"Up there? I wasn't even on the stage, they just had us stand in front."

"Still looked good."

* * *

Late Sunday, out of excuses, Cyndi finally dodged her younger siblings long enough to return her father's second missed call from the day before. Preparing to handle the call, she couldn't help musing at how much it felt like a chore, an obligation.

She heard the background noise of the bus as he picked up, "Hi Cyndi, how are you doing?"

"I'm good. Where are you at?"

"Uh, getting close to Cincinnati, I think. I got your t-shirt in Cleveland, should be big enough to shred like you did with that other one," Ivan answered.

"You know other parents try to shy away from that whole punk thing, right? If you're too cool with it, it's not gonna be that fun anymore."

Ivan chuckled, "Yeah, well, I'll get a desk job and send you to Catholic school, okay?"

"No!" Cyndi laughed, "Hey, Claire said I should start saving up for a car. I still don't have my license, and, uh... Are you gonna be home long enough to actually teach me to drive this time?"

"We can't put it off forever. How long is your permit good for?"

"Two months," she answered.

Ivan sucked in a hiss, "That's cutting it a little close."

"Yeah, but I got the book stuff down, and, you know, you said you would," she replied, well aware of the strings she was pulling.

"You could get your mom to get you started, I'll still get out on the road with you."

"She stressed me out before we even got out of the driveway, Dad. She gets scared the minute I sit down. I can't learn like that," she answered, "And anyway, everybody else is driving already, so-"

"Yeah, okay, okay. I'll do it, you can hold off, but you're gonna put in a whole lot of time behind the wheel to get you ready for the test, right?" Ivan asked.

"Yeah, no problem."

"As for having your own car, though, I dunno. I think I better talk that over with your mom."

Cyndi rolled her eyes, certain that bringing Julie into it was a bad idea, and would delay things for a pointless amount of time, "Do we have to?"

"Uh, yeah, we have to. She worries because she loves you, no need to make it any worse. I'll bring it up to her, you just do me a favor and work on getting that science grade back up, okay?" Ivan requested.

"Yeah," she answered halfheartedly.

"I love you, baby. You keep helping out until I get home, okay?"

"I love you, too," she replied.

* * *

Claire pulled up to the airport curb, spotting Alfie easily, as did Jaime and Melody in the back seat.

Having stowed his bag in the trunk, he got in on the passenger side, reaching into the back seat for a couple of quick hand squeezes from his growing children while he put an arm around Claire. 

"I missed you guys," he said, before pulling the door shut and reaching for his seat belt.

"I didn't miss you. I knew you were coming back," Jaime said loudly from his car seat as Claire pulled away from the curb.

"You did?" Alfie asked, humoring him, "How did you know?"

"Because you said so. And because you always do. But Cocoa missed you."

"Oh," Alfie answered, recognizing his son's brave face for what it was, "Well, then I guess we'd better get home, so she knows I'm back."

"I missed you," Claire said quietly.

* * *

Kevin arrived home exhausted, as was happening more frequently of late, and finding the house silent, went to Mike's door, knocking, calling out to him, but never opening the door without a clear signal, not at Mike's age, "Hey, Mike, buddy? You home?"

"Yeah," Mike's voice came back through the door.

"Any homework?"

"No."

Nodding, not that his son would see it, Kevin called once more, "Got any ideas for dinner that aren't drowning in saturated fat?"

"What?"

Cautiously, Kevin slowly opened the door, only to find Mike approaching to open it himself, "Dinner. Preferably healthy. Got any ideas?"

"Uh, like vegetables? I don't know. But I'd eat whatever, I don't care."

"Okay," Kevin replied, "But no homework, no permission slips, anything I need to sign or drop you off for?"

"No."

"What about aside from school, I mean, you're barely coming out of your room lately. Are you okay?"

Mike shrugged, shaking his head a little too fast, "I'm okay, Dad."

"Yeah? Because you've been doing this since Grandma moved away, and I'm just wondering-"

He snorted, "I don't miss her that bad. And it's not like I don't see her, ever."

As Linda had come closer to retiring, she'd cut back her time at work, easily beating traffic, and had become the perfect caretaker during days that Mike didn't have after school activities. Upon reaching retirement, however, she'd decided to put her house out to rent, with Kevin close by as a stand-in property manager, and moved to a new condominium development near Bridgeway with her recently widowed sister.

Linda had not taken the decision lightly, and it had taken some months worth of back and forth before she'd finally put words to what was keeping her in the area, a concern that her leaving would inconvenience Margaret, and prevent her from working, if she so desired. Margaret had put an end to it easily by pointing out that within two years, Mike would be driving, and was already getting himself from the middle school to the comic book store for Magic the Gathering twice a week, and could, therefore, survive two to three hours home alone.

"If this wasn't normal teen stuff, you'd tell us, right?" Kevin asked, "Because we love you, and we're here for you. We'll listen."

"I know."

"I mean it."

"Dad, god, I'm fine."

"And we miss you when you hide out in there all day, so-"

"Dad! Chill! I'm trying to talk to my friends," Mike answered, starting back to his desk.

Kevin headed for the kitchen, but it wasn't until he was half way there that he realized the screen had been turned off. It seemed suspicious, but not unusually so, and as such, the event was filed away in the back of his mind.

* * *

After a rather passionate evening, Claire was beginning to drift off in Alfie's arms as thoughts wandered his mind, keeping him from sleep.

"Four months... Maybe something's up, I mean-... Never had to try before," he whispered.

"It'll happen, or it won't," Claire mumbled.

"Still, if we both go in for a check-up, it wouldn't hurt."

Claire gave a heavy breath and adjusted her legs, "If it doesn't happen, I don't want to push it. I don't want to keep trying, either."

"You want to stop?" Alfie asked quickly, "What the hell are we doing, if you want to stop?"

She shook her head against him, "I want another baby, but I'm getting really tired of trying to make it happen... If I get my period this time, I think I want to call it quits."

Alfie tightened his arms around her, "Sorry... Stressful for you, I know... But at the same time, just, we've made two beautiful little human beings, and that means the world to me, so... And for some reason you still want to fuck me, even when that's not the plan, I don't know-"

He was cut off with a lighthearted jab of her elbow which set him chuckling, as she stifled a yawn.

"Are you up for one more try?" he asked gently.

"What, right now?" there was a hint of a whine in Claire's overly sleepy voice.

"Yeah, but I can make it really easy, okay?" he said softly, turning to lay over her, nuzzling against her neck.

With a hint of a smile Claire shifted her position, "You know I wore myself out, right?"

"Yeah," he answered, reaching low to fondle himself, "But I've got you... You can still be in charge while I take care of you."

On a whim, Claire tangled her hand in his hair and tightened her grip, pulling him in for a kiss. He gave a small moan, aligned himself, and pushed inside her already very relaxed body, slick from the twice they'd gone before.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" Claire asked, having loosened her hand.

Alfie shook his head, "That was working for me."

Claire tightened her grip once more, harder this time, as she wrapped her legs around him, "Keep going."

He kissed her deeply as he thrust several times, finishing unexpectedly quickly with a groan, letting his head drop to her chest as he caught his breath, "You should really do that more often."

"Maybe I will," she answered with a smirk as he slowly sat up, remaining inside her as his hands wandered, drifting down her torso. 

He traced the scar on her side, felt the smooth skin of her breasts, and brought his hands down over her belly, meeting along the scar from her cesarean. They'd discussed the risks, of course, but while he'd heard it very clearly from her doctor that the chances of a repeat were very slim, he hadn't been convinced until she told him, herself, that she was willing to go through it all again, even if it meant another surgery.

Despite diminishing within her, he stayed where he was, bringing his hands lower to work at her flesh with his thumbs, causing her breathing to deepen, "Think you can reach that stuff you like?"

He drew an amused pleasure watching her eyebrows knit as she took a few too many seconds to respond, "Wait, would that... That stuff mess with your stuff?"

Alfie shrugged, "I'm not sure, but I was thinking outside, where it wouldn't make much difference."

She reached for the drawer in the nightstand beside her, fumbling slightly in its contents before finding the desired tube and passing it to him. While his hands were preoccupied elsewhere, the haze lifted slightly and she raised up on her elbows to look at him, watching his hands move as he continued, applying the tiniest amount of the gel to her body, setting her nerves aflame.

Dropping back into the pillows with a squirm, she tightened her legs around his waist and gripped his thigh next to her hip. Soon he'd focused all of his attentions on one spot, and ran his free hand up her body slowly with a firm pressure until she took hold of it at the center of her chest, jolting somewhat as her hips rocked against him.

As she came down, he gently retreated and lay next to her, keeping her close.

"I think you're right about stopping," he whispered, pausing as she turned to face him, "And... I think, maybe, after this one, then maybe we should stop for real."

"What do you mean?"

"I know what I said before, you know, about six or seven, but with Jaime, everything was so hard on you, scared the hell out of me, and it's not that I don't want another, just... I will raise as many kids as you want to bring into this family, but... maybe we could adopt the rest?"

Claire settled on her back, her eyes fixed on the dark ceiling, "You really want to stop."

"It's not like that. I swear, there's no better feeling than holding you and one of our brand new babies at the same time, knowing what that we loved a person into existence, it's beautiful, but it feels like we need to be thankful for what we've got, and stop rolling the dice."

"What about now?" she asked, "If you're this concerned, why wait?"

"I don't really have a good answer for that... I want another one, but thinking about your health, and where do we stop? That's more important to me than just," he took a deep breath and raised his hand slightly to gesture to her lower half, "I need you. Especially where the kids are concerned. Otherwise, you could say 'let's have ten more,' and I'd be on board in a heartbeat, because... just looking over at you and knowing you're carrying my child, I-"

"I'm done," Claire answered, "As of now. You can go get your tubes tied in the morning, you goober."

"Wait, what? How do you mean, done? This is, now? I mean-"

"It will, or it won't. I'm not even talking about trying tomorrow night. I'm stopping now."

"Okay, but, like, you're not talking about, uh, anti-trying, just stopping?"

"Just stopping."

"Okay."

"Because I married a lunatic who's worried he's going to knock me up one time too many because he has a pregnancy fetish."

"I don't, that's not the same-"

"Then we'd run out of names, and have to name one of them Drausnius."

"No."

"Yeah, Drausnius and Portia."

"I like Portia."

"It means pig," she said, adjusting her pillow, "We were lucky with Mel, Jaime-, well, James was handed to us, so, start figuring this one out now, because I need it on paper before I hit six months."

"You think this time...?"

"Always in the last place you look, right? Hail Mary pass. Actually, Mary was Dean's mom's name... Nah, I don't think so, Ben might want it," she murmured. 

"You're serious."

"Yeah. With our luck, now that we're done, and declared we aren't having any more kids, this is when it's going to take. So, you know, get that name sorted out, or I'm gonna let Mel and Jaime flip a coin, one gets to pick the first name, and the other gets the middle."

* * *

"Oh, my god," Paula whispered, looking at the screen above Charlie's hunched shoulders as her red hair bounced slightly each time she tapped the desk with her forehead, "Somebody has to tell him, he's going to see it soon enough."

"Yeah, but, what about after he knows? He's gonna blame himself, I know it. I don't know how he got in, but, it's _him,_ and Cas won't want to cover this up, I mean, he's moving on in a couple of months, if he gets expelled-"

"Charlie, there's no hiding this. Isn't it better if he gets the whole story all at once?"

Charlie cringed, "I'll do it... Can you track him down and bring him in?"

Nodding, Paula moved back to the other desk in the office and began typing, picking up her phone's handset and bracing it on her shoulder as Charlie made her way to Cas' office.

Reaching the room, she found Cas standing, sorting stacks of print-outs to be passed out among the teachers and administrators at an upcoming meeting, which covered his desk. She closed the door behind her, and given that she'd usually pop in for brief periods throughout the week, he found it odd immediately, but what truly gave her away was the sternness in her eyes.

"Cas... We have a problem. Like, Chernobyl, big."

Cas only raised his eyebrows and waited for her to continue.

"Somebody hacked into your district log-in, used that to get into mine, and erased a bunch of passwords, and sent out a bunch of emails through the internal server system."

"Do we know who it was?" Cas asked.

"Somebody with enough brains to get past me, aaaand, also he's a student at this school, so he's going to wind up with an amazing future if he can keep himself out of prison?" Charlie said cautiously.

"Mike," Cas said with a grim nod.

"Paula's tracking him down now, I have him on video using the station in the computer lab at the exact time your account was used there, once the passwords came down, he could have gotten in from anywhere else. But if you check your email-"

Cas was already sitting down to a full inbox on his desktop, and began looking through the emails one at a time, searching for obvious pranks. He found one within seconds from one of the female gym coaches, requesting a chart of all student's bra sizes 'for health screening purposes,' which went on to specifically include 'overweight male students as well.' Another, from a young science teacher was touting the dangers of a new trend, saying that teens were consuming hydroxyl acid, and listed excessive urination as a symptom of its use. There was yet another from one of the least-liked teachers which gave recommendations on hemorrhoid creams, providing opinions on which variety made 'cranial insertion' the easiest.

Seething, he stood again, pacing the room, seemingly at random to Charlie, until he found his phone, and dialed. He held it to his ear, "Could you, uh-" it picked up at the other end, "Kevin, yes, I need you to come down to the school right away. Mike's not hurt, but-... No... No, look, this does constitute an emergency, I promise you that... Hacking. You're very lucky this was localized, he might only be expelled."

"Uh, Cas?" Charlie started as Cas suddenly looked at the screen of his phone.

"I think he hung up."

"I have to go check whether he managed access to the part where grades are posted, or if it was just emails, so, do you have everything you need to get started on this?"

"I think so, yes. Get back to me on how far this went as soon as you can, please," Cas replied as the door swung open slowly, and Mike stepped inside while Charlie, shooting the boy a warning look, passed him on her way to the hall.

"Sit down," Cas growled.

"Nice to see you, too, Pops," Mike said, taken aback. At some point, the more childish version had shortened to the same label Xander and Ben had taken up, which Kevin had also adopted for occasional use, but his meaning remained, an intentional moniker for his grandfather.

Cas shook his head as he sat down behind his desk, "You could not possibly have thought that Charlie would be unable to find out who did this? Michael, you have a fine mind, and you have abused it thoroughly."

Mike shrugged, "What?"

"The emails. Most of the teachers haven't even logged in yet today, and I'm absolutely certain your name will be making the rounds in a matter of minutes. Charlie has you on video in the lab, and your father is on his way."

"I'm supposed to be in-" Mike pointed toward the door.

"You're supposed to be right here, because your grades won't matter at all if you're not accepted to high school," Cas answered.

"It was just a prank!" Mike burst, "I didn't hurt anybody! I didn't break anything!"

"You compromised the entire district! You illegally gained access to private information, and for even a few moments, you committed multiple counts of identity theft! A password is a lock, and just because you can break through it, does not mean you should! It's not a challenge to conquer, it's privacy to be respected!" Cas continued, raising his voice, "With everything else you could put your mind to, you chose this? Scaring people about the dangers of water, and implying a teacher has his head up his own rear, is that what your life is going to amount to?"

Mike hung his head, his voice small, "I was bored."

"Obviously we aren't challenging you enough, if cracking _Charlie's_ work keeps you entertained! We ought to lock you both in a basement on LAN for a week, you'd come out with a security system too advanced to run on modern electronics," Cas mused, "You're a very intelligent child, Mike, but you're also an idiot."

Displeased with being called a child, Mike rolled his eyes, and was about to respond when the office door opened bruskly, and Kevin didn't slow down as he approached his son, giving a timid cuff to the back of the teenager's head, "What exactly the living hell were you thinking? I'm not even sure what you did yet, but all your internet access is revoked. I don't know if I'd even trust you with a lightbulb right now. One thing's for sure, if you get expelled for this, you're going secular-Amish, I swear to god."

"Dad-"

"What's your mother going to say?" Kevin asked quickly before turning to Cas, "Did you call Margaret?"

"No, you were closer. This is-" on his desk, amongst the sorted paper piles, the desk phone began to ring, presumably regarding the very issue he was addressing. He pressed a button to mute the ringer, and continued, "This isn't unheard of, it's only unheard of _here,_ because Charlie is unarguably the best at what she does. Unfortunately, since he went through my log-in to access hers, it begs the question of how he came by my password to begin with."

Mike suddenly found a spot on the wall intriguing, until Kevin roughly tapped his upper arm, "Ow."

"Out with it," his father insisted.

Mike shrugged, "First letter of each of the words in the first line of the chorus of your favorite song, followed by your birth year. It took two tries because you used the whole year... Charlie's was easier, I should have started with hers, same formula, only took one try."

"You shouldn't have started with hers, you shouldn't've done it in the first place!" Kevin snapped.

Cas looked genuinely confused, "How did you figure out the song?"

Mike was steadily growing more sheepish, "I asked Grandpa."

* * *


	59. Chapter 59

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: Guess who knocked out two and a half chapters today? Woo!)

* * *

Randy usually preferred to leave the room when Claire was acting as the 'complaint department,' if only for plausible deniability, but this time her fury was between him and the door to the garage, and he was stuck where he was.

"Look, _sweetie,_ " the man stressed the word, "I don't know what you think you know about cars, but bikes-"

Claire waved a dismissive hand, "I know plenty more than you do, I've only been running this goddamn place since it opened. I'm licensed for driving everything with fewer than sixteen passengers on board, and we will not touch that damn Kawasaki with a ten foot pole, because your modifications are bubblegum and duct tape. You want a complete rebuild? Fine. We can talk. But I don't put stuff on the road knowing somebody's gonna get killed."

The man huffed and shook his head, "And I guess your daddy out on that county road is going to back you up? You're probably going to call him as soon as I leave, huh?"

"I don't need to, he has eyes. But by all means, waste your time. Have a nice life, what's left of it, anyway, and get out."

Arrogantly, he turned to Randy, "Is she always like this, or just when she's-"

"Whoa! Don't do that. Don't be that guy. Just get out. Come back if you decide your life is worth more than your pride in those half-assed repairs, okay?" Randy said, cutting him off and pointing to the door.

"You put up with this shit?" he scoffed, "Only one reason this tramp would have you by the balls-"

"I'm calling the cops," Claire said, starting for her office.

Randy jerked his head toward the door, giving the man a sense of urgency before starting after her, a tactic they'd only had to use once before, but as expected, the man rushed out the door as Claire calmly leaned back in her seat, Randy standing in her doorway as the man took another look through the front windows before getting into a pickup truck that had seen better days, weighed down in the bed by a mangled bike that looked like it had never seen a good day at all.

She held her hand up, miming a phone to her ear, "Hello? Police? Yeah, I need a dozen glazed, and a dozen extra sprinkles. 'K, thanks, bye."

"You're so mean," Randy chuckled.

Claire shrugged, "Right? How dare I refuse to help that guy's family sue us for his own stupidity? I'm such a bitch."

"Right. Listen, Tanya's sister is in town, and I was wondering, um-"

"You can't sleep in the store room."

"No, she's cool, I wanted to know if I can trade you for Saturday off?"

Claire initially made a face, but it soon smoothed over, "You know what? Yeah. Alfie needs some one-on-one time with the kids."

"You mean they bugged the crap out of you while he was gone."

"That, too."

* * *

Despite the repercussions, and as he was constantly being told, the severity of his actions, Mike found surprisingly little remorse to give. Anger, mostly, was what seemed to be available to him, as he dropped yet another book off the side of his bed, staring at the spot on his desk where his computer had been.

Kevin, and Margaret, once she'd settled herself, had signed a contract with the school stating he would be denied access to any internet capable device until such time as the district security systems had been overhauled, not to exceed three months. Kevin had gone so far as to remove the SIM card from Mike's phone before they even left Cas' office.

Another book thumped the floor as it slid from the top of the growing pile.

With the tiniest bit of pity, Kevin allowed him some antique Gameboy before taking the power cables from each item in the entertainment center, especially the television, and locked them all away in the home office with other various devices, laptops, tablets, and an iPod Margaret had almost forgotten she had. Kevin had made a joke about old modems and picking up a rotary phone.

He had thought he was bound to receive an in-school suspension, that they'd be better off keeping a close eye on him, but instead he'd been told that due to the nature of some of the emails he'd sent - as a joke! - that Cas had no other option than an out of school suspension. Margaret had been able to wait while Kevin had needed to leave, and she'd been given a basic packet of grade-level homework for him to keep busy while he accompanied her to work. He wasn't looking forward to that part, sitting in the shop all day with a borrowed clipboard, stalling between questions on the paper he could easily have done in ten minutes if he cared to.

Looking up, he found his father watching him from the doorway, "There's no charger for the Gameboy."

"It runs on these little things called 'batteries,' same as the T.V. remote. They're small disposable power-cells-" Kevin answered.

"I know what batteries are, Dad."

"Yeah? And what about rules?"

"This is crap. I know what you guys did to the principal's car in high school, sticking sex toys and stuff all over it, Mom told me. But not getting caught doesn't make it okay. This barely scratches the surface of what you did," Mike argued.

"Yeah? And Ben got caught breaking and entering, destroying property, and Claire got arrested for punching Grandpa, I'm sure as hell not going to tell you teenagers make smart choices, okay? Your mom had her own thing going on, that's her business, and I got kicked out of Singer a bunch of times. But you need to accept your failings for what they are, and learn from them."

"All I did was send some funny emails."

"From other people's email addresses. Which you hacked. You're lucky Charlie said there was no way you touched the grades, because they wouldn't even be thinking about letting you into high school if you'd done that."

Mike's face fell, the first hint of contrition Kevin had seen, and he looked concerned, "Then what would happen? Homeschool?"

"If we have to. But the record of this isn't going anywhere. You've got superpowers, Mike, but you have to keep a lid on them, and only use them for good. Because look where screwing around got you."

Mike shook his head, "I don't want to get kicked out of school over this."

"Pops is going to do everything he can. Charlie is a close friend of his, she wouldn't want that either," Kevin said, moving to sit next to Mike on the bed, "So what are you going to do to help them get you past this?"

Mike shrugged, "Follow the rules?"

"Sorry, that almost sounded like 'write a heartfelt apology to each person you impersonated, and to the district,' that's what you meant, right?" Kevin prodded gently.

"I have so much homework, though."

"Uh-huh. Look, I said I had your back when I put it together that you were playing your assessments to stay at your grade level in elementary school, but don't try that crap on me, you know perfectly well I'm coming at this from the same angle... And I know how hard it is to hide it, too."

Mike nodded, stress taking over as Kevin put an arm around him, "If I get kicked out, I guess I'll just give up on the normal thing and blitz through, do college early, if they'll let me."

"Don't put it that way. Normal is crap. Social is what you're aiming for, and as much as I hate to say it, you don't need school for that. You do know how to talk to people."

Kevin half expected it as Mike leaned into him, although at the size he was now, it was taking some getting used to, "You get how much money we could make running a scam or something illegal, right?"

"Ethics, man. Money's not near as important as keeping yourself in the clear with what's right and wrong."

"I guess," Mike slurred slightly.

Kevin gave him a squeeze, "And this isn't about Grandma moving? Because if you need to talk-"

"No... I'm fourteen, I don't need Grams across the street... Only thing going on, really, is Susie Lowery following me around, and she gets really weird when I ask her why."

"She likes you?"

"She's a little sixth grader, it's gross. I mean, I'm still gonna be nice to her, but I'm gonna be in high school next year, so that'll give her some time to drool over somebody else," Mike said quietly, "Maybe, anyway."

"Mom stopped crying a little while ago, if you were looking for a chance to leave your room."

"Am I allowed in the pool? Or is that also somehow internet capable?"

"You wish it had wifi," Kevin joked, "But, no, I turned off the pool, so I think you're okay on that one."

* * *

"You gotta eat," Dean said softly.

"I'm sorry. It's a lovely dinner, I've just had a very trying day," Cas replied.

The small house in the darkened junk yard was nearly silent as Cas dwelled on comments overheard from the teacher's lounge. The general consensus was one of frustration, as the student in question was too close to Cas to be made accountable for his actions, while he was perfectly aware that Margaret, Kevin, and even Mike were all wringing hands over the possibility of Mike's expulsion.

Dean took a bite, watching to see if his motions led to any automatic reaction out of Cas, hoping to rope him into at least half of his dinner. Finding no reaction, he set his fork down, "This isn't on you, sweetheart. He's a kid. And that was a really good password. He's just too smart for his own good, and he's gonna screw up sometimes."

"There's some concern that I won't handle this appropriately, because he's family."

"Ben and Xander were living under your roof during eighth grade, nobody-"

"They didn't send these emails, Dean. They may have had issues with the other students, but they didn't forge a letter from a teacher implying he routinely places his own head inside of his rectum."

Dean nodded, stifling a laugh at the mental image, "That's pretty damn creative, you gotta give him that much."

"I don't know how I've failed him most, as an educator, ignoring his talents until boredom got him into this mess, or as a family member, yelling at him until his father arrived."

"You yelled?" Dean asked, surprised.

Cas gave a weak nod.

"Just off the top of my head, I don't remember you yelling at the boys. That takes a whole hell of a lot... Maybe you just thought you were yelling?"

"Charlie said she could hear it from the front door."

Dean let out a slow breath of amazement, "Okay, remind me, how long is the suspension?"

"Possibly the next four years, if the high school won't take him."

"You didn't mention that part," Dean replied, "Shit, that is... Oh, god, you're going to talk to Hannah."

"I don't have much choice. The easiest way to get him in is to have her request it. His parents could go to her with this and plead his case, but they didn't work shoulder-to-shoulder with her for years, they don't have the same history-"

"She said she was going after your job, Cas. That bitch-"

"That bitch was a good friend while it lasted, and I hope she'll be willing to do as I do, and consider the student and his educational needs... Unfortunately, it could also play off as favoritism... Either way, I don't see any other options," Cas said, reaching for his glass.

Dean scoffed, "Perfect. Kiss ass, or kiss his high school experience goodbye. She's gonna love this."

"If I can get her outraged at the prospect of Mike going without a high school education, I might be able to leave myself out of this. I don't think she's too aware of-... No, she's aware... I'll call her office in the morning."

* * *

Ben jumped slightly as the front door was flung open, and over Jack's shoulder he watched as Millie flung her purse onto a low shoe bench by the door, slam the door shut, and hurry off toward the bedroom.

"Shit, dude!" Xander exclaimed, not looking up from the video game, "Don't shake down the whole house!"

Getting up from the sofa, he passed his controller to Cora, much to Jack's complaint, and she continued to play for him despite Jack's young nephew having fallen asleep on her lap.

Entering the bedroom he found Millie stopped halfway onto the bed, furiously typing a text on her phone, her shaky breath making her tremble.

"What's going on?" Ben asked.

"She sent her dad to bug Grandma about the bakery. She's pissed. She hasn't even thought about this town in years, and now that Grandma's not looking so good, she thinks she deserves a 'fair share.' He tried to say I talked her into changing the will, and she just wants to make everybody happy, but if she caves and splits it, Aubrey already said she won't let me buy her out. She wants to sit on her ass while I run things, and collect a check. It's so-... It's her! It's exactly what she does!"

"Um... I don't know what to tell you, but, whatever's going on, I'm on your side, okay?" Ben said quietly.

Dropping her phone to the blanket, she wobbled awkwardly off the bed into a hug so clumsily desperate, arm placement was easily forgotten. Standing together for a brief time, she seemed to relax, and eventually, she lifted her head, "Jack brought Liam over again, didn't he?"

"Yeah... I thought that was okay?"

"It's okay, just, what the hell is going on?"

"Um, Kayla kind of ditched."

"Kind of ditched? Only 'kind of?'" Millie asked.

Ben shrugged, "Look, Kayla sucks as a person, and Jack's watched his parents give up on a kid before, if he wants to-... Look, forget I said anything, okay?"

"I can try, but I won't promise anything," Millie answered, "Is he at least a good replacement? You talk to him more than I do."

"Yeah, he is. He's doing great. He just needs to learn about kids' schedules and stuff, and they'll be fine. He'll get there," Ben reassured her.

Millie nodded, "Okay, good... Sorry, I'm a mess, I don't really feel like hanging out, I'm just gonna go to bed. I don't care if everybody stays up."

"No, no, it's okay. We'll keep it down. I think we're wrapping up pretty soon anyway," he answered as she started for the sink in the bathroom to remove what little makeup she wore, "Um... Is it cool if Jack crashes in the guest room? I think Liam might be out for the night."

"If the kid stays, Jack stays, unless it's an emergency. I just can't babysit right now, not... not now, that's all."

Ben nodded, easily taking into consideration the strain she was under, "Yeah, of course. I just wanted to make sure... They really think it's going to be soon, then, don't they?"

Millie nodded sadly, "Probably this month... I don't think she's going to get back on her feet this time."

She heard the door close softly, but upon entering the bedroom again to find her pajamas, she found Ben stretching out on his side of the bed, still fully clothed.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"I'm gonna sit with you so you fall asleep easier."

"Aww... Benji, you don't have to do that, I'm beat, I couldn't stay awake if I wanted to."

"Then it won't take long, will it?" he replied, pulling the free side of the covers back for her.

* * *

Cas arrived late the following morning, only to find his office already occupied by Don Lytton, Jack's father, and now president of the school board.

"Don... How are things?" Cas asked conversationally as he moved to sit down.

"Well, my daughter's decided to extend her trip by a few months, so we've got the grandson much longer than the two weeks we were expecting, but you know how grandsons are, don't you?" Don answered with a knowing smile.

"I do. James is finishing kindergarten, and he's a very vocal child, and Mike, well, I assume he's the reason for your visit," Cas responded.

Don nodded, "I've seen the emails. It's really too bad spelling and vocabulary wasn't counted, I thought for sure it had to be an adult pulling this one."

Bracing himself, Cas nodded, contemplating Don's overly easy demeanor, and what it might imply.

"Where's Mike today? I'm sure you're not letting him back in the computer lab?"

"No," Cas answered, "In fact, his parents aren't letting him near anything with a screen. He's accompanied his mother to work this morning, and where she goes, he goes. We really had no choice but to suspend him."

"How sure are you? I heard the initial break happened on campus, but the emails were sent remotely?"

Cas took a deep breath, aware his emotions were becoming more obvious the longer Don stayed in the room, "At this point, we're all very aware that the only local option for high school may be closed to him, but his parents don't want to risk whatever chance might be left. They're keeping him on a very tight leash."

"Maybe he ought to spend some time with Ben. That certainly sorted Jack out," Don suggested with a hint of a smile.

Considering Mike's predicament, despite his mood, Cas decided that now was not the best time to point out Don's many failings as a father, the amount of time both boys, and Xander had taken in simply following Dean around like ducklings, or that any stable male influence would have sufficed, "Yes, well, I suppose it couldn't hurt to try, if Ben has time."

Don pulled one ankle up to rest on his knee, "So, bringing his continuing education into mind, what's the plan going forward? Would he be able to advance to ninth grade on his grades alone?"

"He'd advance straight to eleventh if he'd apply himself, and we facilitated it, however his father would prefer he stay with his age group," Cas replied, "Assuming the board doesn't step in and prevent it, I hope to take this to Hannah, grovel, and hopefully she'll speak on his behalf to the district, if only to keep him in school."

"Right. A bright kid like this, we can't have him cracking databases for the mob or something. I'm not sure high school is much better, but we can hope she'll keep him on track," Don said with another nod.

Cas stifled a feeling that Don was looking after no one's best interests other than his own, ultimately, certain it was coming from a feeling of protectiveness for Mike that made Don come off as a threat, "What do you think his chances are?"

"Of staying in school? At this point, pretty good. If, like you said, you can get Hannah to speak for him. You get her to back him, and you should be good. But he's gotta toe the line until he graduates. With a massive screw-up this size, you only get one second chance."

* * *

Jack walked Liam up to the front door of his parents' home, surprised to find his mother's car gone, and let himself in. He found his nephew's gym bag of clothing in disarray in the room that had once been his, and went through it, looking for anything that was obviously clean, only to become frustrated and look for anything that seemed to look clean.

He set his phone to his ear as he placed the chosen items on the bed, telling Liam to get changed before taking the bag to the laundry room to start most of it.

"Hey, Mom, why aren't you home? I thought you were taking Liam in for a check up?" Jack said, loading washer, which made his voice choppy.

"Oh, uh, I called Kayla, turns out his coverage lapsed, so she needs to fill some stuff out," she replied, "I mean, she has to take responsibility for him sometimes, right? If she's not going to be here, she can at least get the paperwork handled so somebody else can do it."

"When's his appointment?" Jack asked.

"Well, she's not going to have him on that state insurance today, honey. Don't be ridiculous."

Jack scoffed, "Do they take credit cards? Checks? How much could it cost to do it out of pocket? Did she say how long it's been lapsed for?"

"Jack, honey, please. She'll figure it out. Just give her some time," she replied.

He could have kicked himself, seeing a familiar pattern emerging, "It's fine, Mom. Now, where are you at? Do I need to call in to work, since you're not here?"

A sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line made it clear that he would in fact need to call in to work before she even spoke, "Oh, sweetie, I'm sorry. I forgot. I ran out to talk to Helen, and now-"

"No, no, it's okay. Listen, I'm going to call Kayla, see what she wants to do about his appointment, and I'll handle him today. It's no problem."

"Thank you, honey," his mother replied, "This is going to be so much easier in the fall. She's gotta settle down when he starts school, you know."

Jack turned around to find Liam looking up at him from the laundry room door, his shoes on the wrong feet, and his nose running, "Yeah, you would think so... I'll let you know how it goes."

After putting his phone away, he pulled the knob atop the washing machine to start it, and turned back to his nephew.

Liam was barely five, and small. Jack had been told many times by his sister that Liam was 'slow,' but no diagnosis was ever mentioned. As far as he could tell, the little boy was just quiet, but not alarmingly so. He had no trouble paying attention, or following directions, and he knew his basic colors and most of his letters. The only thing that seemed off to him was a lack of initiative.

"I have to call your mom and see how she's doing. Do you want a snack, or did you get enough breakfast at Ben's house?" Jack asked.

Liam shook his head, "I'm not hungry."

"Cool... How about you go get those legos out, and I'll go ahead and call, then we'll see what we can make, okay?"

Liam nodded and wandered off as Jack dug through his contacts for the last number he had for Kayla. Pressing the button to call, he was shortly met with a recorded message, _"We're sorry; the number you have reached has been disconnected, or is no longer in service. If you feel you have reached this message in error-"_

Livid, Jack ended the call.

* * *


	60. Chapter 60

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: Should it get a re-edit with chapter names in the future, this chapter will be called 'Driving Lessons.'
> 
> Thanks for reading! Thanks for the comments! FW)

* * *

"Okay, I don't remember how the book says to do it, but check the brake, that's what I do first," Ivan instructed, watching as Cyndi pressed down the brake pedal, "No, the parking brake."

Glancing down to her right, Cyndi shrugged, "Does this one even have one?"

"Emergency brake, then. Same thing, basically. If it's not off, either hand brake or pedal over there by the door, you aren't going anywhere, not without tearing up the car."

"Oh," Cyndi pulled what she thought was the emergency brake release, as the two were close together, causing a thump from the front of the car as the hood popped up an inch and a half, "Oh, crap. Did I break it? What did I do?"

"You popped the hood," Ivan explained, "That's not a big deal, just go open it about halfway up, and slam it down."

"Slam it?"

"It's metal, kiddo. And I know you already did this when I showed you how to check the oil."

Attempting to come off as relaxed, hoping it would boost Cyndi's confidence, Ivan waited patiently in his seat as Cyndi got out and moved to the front of the car, opening the hood, and slamming it as he'd told her, if a bit more forcefully than he'd expected. Getting back in, she spotted the correct release for the brake, and pulled it, "Nothing happened."

"Right. Because it was off. But you need to check."

"Why? If we leave it off, what's the point?"

"Because it's on the test."

"Oh."

"Okay, check your mirrors. You need to know what obstacles might be around the car, look for any kids running around in the street, and don't hit that zebra," Ivan said calmly.

"Zebra?" Cyndi asked, turning around in her seat.

Ivan chuckled, "Okay, so you're paying attention. Everything looks clear? Your mirrors are at the best angles?"

"Yeah?" Cyndi answered, adjusting her shoulder strap.

"Start the car."

With her hand on the key, Cyndi hesitated.

"Go on, turn it all the way until it turns over, then let go," Ivan said with a small wave toward the ignition.

"Um... I held it too long last time, and Mom freaked out."

"You're fine, I swear."

"But if I break it-"

"Then we go out and buy the part off of Dean and I'll switch it out in the garage. But we aren't going anywhere until you turn the key, Cyndi."

* * *

Saturday had been one of Mike's favorite days, before his entire life had gone into lock-down. Now, after three days straight of sitting in the front office of Singer Automotive, watching his mother performing the dullest of tasks, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, he had somehow entered hell. Nothing else could possibly be so dull as this.

Dean had at least attempted, with Margaret's permission, to give him some small tasks in exchange for some extra spending money. He'd emptied the trash, swept, and even cleaned the bathroom once the boredom had made him desperate, but nothing was left that he would be allowed anywhere near. The manuals were in order, paper files were either organized or contained sensitive information, and he was only allowed in the bays with direct supervision.

Between Margaret's spates of typing and mouse-clicks, he could hear the very ticking of the clock on the wall. If anything was perfectly clear to him, it was that he would not survive four more years of this.

The shop was quiet, as Dean had left to go home and have lunch with Cas, but Margaret had insisted that Mike was to stay put. He was allowed to move around, but Dean's office was locked, and she was at the only other computer, so she'd relaxed slightly. Moving down the hallway, he found the only other employee on duty, Blake, working on something in the third bay from the door. He passed a small blue car in the first bay, an engine was in pieces in the second bay where it was being rebuilt, and Blake had paused his work on it in order to help finish up the oil change on Dean's Impala so he would be able to take it out of the garage once he returned.

Wandering over, Mike watched as Blake carefully removed the oil bottle and the fender covers that protected the paint while the hood was open. Blake began looking around for some object, checking the floor, and looking to see if it had fallen into the works at some point before he turned around and found it - the oil cap - on one of the tall tool benches.

"He lets you work on his car?" Mike asked.

"Uh, no. But it was almost done, so I'm just closing it up for him," Blake answered, "Listen, I left the tool bag out in the yard when I brought in a window earlier. I gotta go get it. Don't touch anything, okay? You don't know what you're doing, you could lose a hand, all right?"

"Yeah. But I can look, right?" Mike asked, gesturing to the many pieces of metal on the floor of the second bay.

Blake shrugged, "Sure."

* * *

Dean had been only an inch from the front door when his phone began to ring, and he picked it up almost immediately with a number he didn't recognize, "This is Dean."

"Mr Winchester, this is Sheriff Mills. Do you still have that classic black Chevy Impala?"

"Yes?" Dean asked suspiciously.

"Do you happen to know, off the top of your head, any part of the plates on that?"

Dean rattled off the entire plate number as his concern grew.

"Great. Thank you. Listen, if you're not busy, I would like to save you some time and hassle and avoid towing it, so if you could, it's just down the highway a bit from where you most likely left it, heading toward County Road fifty-seven."

Dean took a few deep breaths as red tinged the edges of his vision, and went back into the kitchen, "Yeah. Thank you, I'll be there in a minute."

* * *

Cas' white crossover pulled to the side of the highway, and Dean was out of it even before Cas had put it in park. Dean hurried past his awkwardly parked car, which had been left with only the rear driver's side tire on the shoulder of the road, the rest were in the grass on a slope. Past it, with a far more experienced parking job was Sheriff Mills' patrol car, the lights on the roof running, and the driver's side back door propped open where she was speaking to someone Cas couldn't see.

Dean passed his car on the passenger side, walking along the grassy slope, checking for damage. The front passenger side corner had clipped something, the bumper was askew, and the turn signal was broken. Catching sight of Mike's face through the back window of the patrol car, and started for him immediately.

Monitoring the situation closely since Dean had arrived, Sheriff Mills closed the door of the patrol car and moved to intercept Dean, who was moving at an aggressive pace, putting a hand out toward his chest and setting the other on her sidearm, "Mr Winchester, you need to step back!"

Dean stopped reluctantly before waving toward the patrol car, "You're between an ex Army medic and his grandkid who just had a car accident. You and your little gun need to get out of my way," he growled.

"That's your grandson?" Sheriff Mills attempted to clarify, not removing her hand.

"Mike Tran, parents Kevin and Margaret, yeah. He's fourteen, and he's supposed to be at the shop right now."

Taking her hand off her gun, Sheriff Mills stepped aside, watching him closely as Dean quickly opened the patrol car's door, crouching to look Mike over, checking his eyes as best he could without a flashlight.

"What did you hit?" Dean asked.

"The post by the mailbox," Mike answered quietly.

Dean set his hands on either side of Mike's neck, checking for swelling or tenderness, "How's your neck feel? Did it shake you up?"

"I'm okay."

"For now," Dean answered sarcastically, "What about the the rest of you? Are you bleeding? Did you hit any part of the car when you hit that post?"

"No... Just kind of made a crunch noise," Mike replied.

Dean stood up and closed the door, walking away quickly, once again facing the damage to his car, "He's fine."

Sheriff Mills nodded, "His father is on the way here."

Through a haze of restrained rage, Dean noticed Cas had left his car, and was walking toward them. Dean ran a hand over his face, shaking his head, too angry to bother putting words together.

"Is he hurt?" Cas asked, nodding toward the back of the patrol car.

"No," Dean said, turning in place with anxious movement before settling once more, and turning to Mills, "Why is he cuffed?"

"Standard procedure. I don't have a partner with me to watch him. So, how'd he get your keys?" she asked.

"They were in it. I was doing an oil change and stopped for lunch, Mike was still in the shop when I left," Dean answered.

"Is this normal for him?"

"It seems to be, this week," Cas answered dryly.

Dean huffed and took to walking around his car checking for further damage, as Cas took his phone from his pocket and attempted to call Margaret.

Before long, Kevin's vehicle pulled in from the other side of the highway, nose to nose with the patrol car. From the grassy side, Dean went straight for Kevin, who seemed to be in quite a state, and was having difficulty getting his car door to close, finally noticing the seat belt buckle was preventing it.

Receiving no answer from Margaret's phone, Cas put his own back in his pocket, "Was there a reason you didn't call his mother? She's working at the shop, just up the road."

Sheriff Mills shrugged, "He gave me his father's information, so I used it. Most of the time kids know which parent will handle it best."

"Or go easy on them," Cas commented, gaining a nod from Mills.

As Dean came closer, he could see that Kevin's hands were shaking, "Hey... He's okay. He hit a post, but he's fine."

"He's not fine, he stole a car!" Kevin burst, "Oh, shit... He stole _your_ car. God, I am so sorry. I don't know, I'm thinking maybe military school, or whatever the closest Buddhist monastery is, or something. I'll talk Margaret into it, but we're going to sort him out."

"Whoa, stop," Dean insisted, "Look, you can't blab that around Cas, he went to boarding school, he'll just push Margaret the other way on that."

"But it would help him, right?" Kevin said, speaking quickly, "Obviously nothing is sinking in! Whatever I tell him, he doesn't retain it. We figure out the attitude crap, and then he's right back at it. The worst part, probably, is it's even worse when it's coming from Margaret, it's like he got taller than her, and all respect for her went right out the window."

"Yeah, well, if it helps any, this is probably the worst he's going to get, if you shut it down now."

"I've been shutting it down," Kevin sounded beaten, there was a broken tone in his voice, "This is what happens. He says he knows he screwed up, he says he's sorry, he's okay for a few days, and then he ramps it up with something even bigger. How much longer before he's knocking over a liquor store, because he was bored? Or gets shot in a drug deal because he had nothing better to do? I can't... I can't lose him, but I'm at the end of my rope, here."

Watching through the windshield, with a somewhat obscured view of the boy, Dean gave careful consideration to the personality and behavior, from what he'd noticed over the past six months. Beneath his headstrong and willful exterior, there was something more, and Dean had a feeling it was confusion, "He is ramping up, isn't he?"

Kevin scratched at his hairline, which drew Dean's attention, "You raised two boys, how the hell did you cope? What am I not doing?"

"Tell me something," Dean asked cautiously, "Does he respect you more when your nails aren't done?"

Kevin turned his fingers inward, taking a careful look at his nails, "What do you mean?"

"You weren't much older than him when you started hanging around Bobby's shop, and I doubt it was just because your buddy was there," Dean shrugged, "I mean, maybe he's not getting the influence he's looking for."

He regretted his phrasing as he watched Kevin's expression fall fast.

"Hey, c'mon, I'm not meaning you have to change. Working in a damn beauty parlor isn't ruining his life. I'm just saying, if there's something missing there, and I mean, think about Lucas, right? Margaret could take him, and he's still more butch than you... Just, it takes a village, right?"

"I guess," Kevin answered.

"Well, you tried everything, you're desperate, you're ready to ship him off to boot camp. I've been there, though, and worse. You give me two weeks, and you'll see progress, I can promise you that."

Kevin looked up at him, "Are you sure?"

"Well, you could just jump in and save him again, but you just said that wasn't working."

Past Cas, and his ongoing discussion with Sheriff Mills, likely related to the issues that had caused Mike's suspension, Kevin spotted Margaret's car as she pulled up behind Cas' white Ford, and made a beeline for her, giving his son no more than a cold glance through the glass as he passed the cruiser.

* * *

Despite closing the bakery early and heading for the assisted living facility around the middle of the day, Ben wasn't exactly sure how Millie was still on her feet.

He'd done what he could, following orders and recipes, shuffling large trays of pastries as they emptied, and the very idea of helping her get started Monday morning before going to the veterinary clinic made his arms ache in protest.

Attempting to enter her grandmother's rooms, Millie was stopped in her tracks as a young woman backed out of the room, pulling the door closed behind her. Upon turning around, it became obvious, as below a layer of heavy makeup, the edges of her distinctive birthmark still showed on her cheek.

"Millie... God, you are always showing up late, aren't you? I guess you're too busy for family, huh?"

Millie rolled her eyes, "I was working. At the bakery. You know, that place that's really important to Grandma? Sorry I wasn't available to keep your chair warm."

Casting a seedy look in Ben's direction, Aubrey shrugged, "I guess there's other stuff you can keep warm for me. Anyway, visiting hours, and all. You can't go in."

Millie shook her head and proceeded to open the door, despite further protest from Aubrey, only to find a few more family members inside, including Aubrey's father, who looked displeased with Millie's arrival.

Millie turned around as though to ask Aubrey for an explanation why she'd attempted to keep Millie from the room, but Aubrey shook her head, "It was getting a little crowded. I'll just wait out here until you're gone."

"Fine," Millie answered gently, allowing the door to close.

Ben stepped next to the door to wait, aware that the small room was already quite full, and felt it best that it be occupied with those closest to Millie's grandmother. He did what he could to ignore Aubrey looking him up and down.

"You got tall."

"Yeah, you would've noticed that if you came to the wedding," Ben said quietly.

Aubrey chuckled, "Oh, good old Millie, always after my hand-me-downs."

"Don't be a bitch," Ben said quietly, "Your Grandma's dying, you can at least put it off for a few days."

"Is the truth too bitchy for you? Because that's how it always plays out. She wants what she can't have, I want the same thing. I get it, I lose interest, and then she scrambles for whatever's left. The bakery, you-"

"You never _had_ me. You played a mind game. She got my first date, and a bunch of other firsts, and now look at you. Maybe you fell from the same family tree, but at least she didn't hit every branch on the way down," Ben said, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall as Aubrey stared at him, agape.

"My family is grieving right now-"

"My wife is grieving. You seem to be fine."

"And I don't need some fake-ass animal doctor-"

"The short word is 'vet,' dear," Ben answered in a condescending tone.

"-giving me hell and sticking his nose where it doesn't belong!"

"She's in there signing her half of the bakery over to you."

"What?" Aubrey asked, alarmed.

"Yeah. She said she would rather go from the ground up, just like Grandma did, but she's also not worried about any competition, since you're gonna sell it off to pay the taxes, the debts, the lease, the licenses, cut-and-run, so to speak... Oh, uh, my sister majored in business, so she's been helping Millie run numbers. Congratula-"

Ben hadn't had time to finish the word before Aubrey flung the door open, her rage and horror written on her face, only to be hushed by her father.

As the door closed and Aubrey's voice began a quiet whine, Ben smirked, and let his head rest against the wall.

* * *

Jack hefted Liam into the shopping cart, and began pushing it into the aisles of dry goods, "Okay, buddy, I think that is the last time we're having soda pop with breakfast... I just know I can't give you coffee or booze, so, if you're staying in town for a couple months, I need to get you some good stuff for at my place... I guess milk and juice... A little less junk wouldn't hurt me."

Passing an end-cap with a flyer about the library's upcoming summer reading program, Liam pointed to a cardboard book meant for toddlers.

"Bob the Builder? Dude, you're a big kid, you can get one with real paper," Jack replied, choosing one from a higher shelf that had the same characters, and passed it to his nephew, "How about this one? Or do you have this one already?"

Liam took it carefully with both hands, "I don't have any books."

"What?" Jack asked.

"I don't have any. Because I can't read yet."

Jack shook his head, "How are you gonna learn to read if you don't have any books to start with?"

Liam shrugged, making it painfully clear that to his young mind, none of it made sense, it was simply how the world worked.

"Okay. Okay, I'm gonna fix this," Jack turned around to face the rack, only to find the selection of children's books were on special at a dollar a piece. He began taking several, aiming for one of each title that wasn't covered in pink, only to think better of it, "Okay, here we go, this one has animals, this one's got trains, I'm not sure what this guy's deal is, but we'll find out, and... You know what, we'll get this princess one, too, that'll come in handy if you're scoping out the ladies or wanting to be one, either way, you're good, and here's one with a dinosaur on it. Better?"

The little boy was attempting to stack them in the bottom of the basket, and stopped to look up at him, concerned, "But I still can't read."

"That's okay. You can practice and read them later."

Suddenly struck by the absurdity of a five year old being told he couldn't have books until he could read them, Jack realized it was not hearing it that bothered him, as he'd been around Claire's children often enough to hear plenty of wild stories and half-truths. It was the fact that it seemed perfectly plausible to hear such a thing from Kayla herself that pained him.

The child settled into the basket and began turning pages as Jack began to ramble quietly, speaking mostly for his own benefit, if only to distract himself, "Okay, we are gonna need some mac and cheese, but we'll get that from the freezer case, because it's easier, and probably has real cheese in it... I guess crackers would be better than cookies... We should check if they have some of those, uh... Oh, hey, popcorn. That's not bad for you. That stuff's even gluten free, sometimes. Not sure if that's why it's healthy or not, I just know it doesn't make you as fat as a bag of chips will..."

* * *

Unsure what exactly was happening outside the vehicle, Mike cooperated silently when Sheriff Mills finally opened his door and helped him to his feet, turning him around to remove the cuffs.

"Mr Tran," she said, addressing him, as Kevin was standing further away, "You are a very lucky young man, mostly because your family loves you, but also because I am a very patient woman... Grandpa over there isn't pressing charges, you're getting a warning because I'm tired and I want to get home, and your parents have been through entirely too much crap with you this week."

Mike nodded as he turned around, "I'm really sorry."

"Save it. If I so much as see you walking down the street without an adult for the rest of the month, I'm picking you up. Do you understand?"

Mike nodded once more.

"Stay out of trouble. I mean it."

Mike started for his parents only to find himself confused as Margaret made for her own car, and Kevin came toward him quickly, "Where's Mom going?"

"Don't worry about it," Kevin answered firmly, taking his elbow and steering him toward Cas' car, "You're going to stay with your grandfathers for a while. I'll run home and get you some clothes."

"What? Why?" Mike asked.

Margaret's car pulled away as Kevin gave an exaggerated gesture to the Impala, "That is why! Actually, that's not why, that's a symptom of why. And everything I do, everything I say, it just bounces off you. Nothing is sinking in... So we're doing what we have to do. All of us."

"What does that even mean?" Mike asked with increased confusion.

"Get in the car."

"Dad-"

He stared after his father, stunned, as Kevin walked back to his car, got in, and drove away.

* * *

"A little further," Ivan encouraged, "Just go easy and I'll tell you when to stop."

"But the garage door-" Cyndi began.

"You're not even close to it yet. You'll get a feel for it when you've been driving for a while."

She inched the car forward, little by little, taking what felt like an eternity, certain she was about to bump into it at any point before Ivan allowed her to put the car in park.

"Go check how much space you have left," Ivan said, unfastening his seat belt.

Exiting the vehicle, Cyndi went to the front of the car only to find a gap of about one foot. She could have sworn he'd been trying to trick her into a distance of a mere inch. Ivan stood on the opposite side of the car, and gestured to roughly where the windshield was, "You stopped about right here... Now, it's good to be cautious, but not so much that you're leaving the trunk sticking out into the street."

She eyed the bumper, "Next time, can we tie a pool noodle or something on there? That was scary."

Ivan laughed, "You're fine. You're doing great. We'll do this again tomorrow."

* * *


	61. Chapter 61

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: Just moving right along, here...)

* * *

Dean had taken a moment to outline his planned course of action before Mike was ever out of the cruiser, and as such, Cas knew enough to cooperate, Kevin had approved, and Margaret was too hurt to pose any argument against it.

In his opinion, having been through the path Mike appeared to be on, 'juvie,' expelled, and seemingly digging for rock bottom, Dean decided to jump straight to a healthy sample of the consequences. Isolation, fear, and anxiety. It had seemed extreme at first, but as Dean had pointed out, Mike would get there eventually without their help and have a harder road coming back, if nothing was done.

The kitchen table was silent, and Mike's discomfort was obvious. His duffel had been left on the porch for him, he wasn't certain which of his parents had driven it out, only that it had arrived, and with Dean's comment about doing laundry, he knew the amount of clothing in the bag would not be indicative of the length of his stay.

Knowing looks crossed the table on occasion, but nothing was said until Mike broke the silence, "Is my dad in trouble with the cops because of me?"

"No," Dean answered with a level and unconcerned tone, causing the uncomfortable silence to resume.

"He... He didn't tell me what's going on."

"You're staying here until you go home."

"When is that?" Mike asked.

"When it's time, we'll tell you."

Finding Dean's answer unsatisfactory, Mike wanted to snap, argue, swear, and scream, but uncertainty in his current predicament kept it in. He did his best to eat, but stress had killed his normally voracious appetite.

Finishing his meal, Dean set his fork down, and turned slightly to speak to Mike, "Do you know why you're here?"

"Because of your car?" Mike asked, attempting to match Dean's easy confidence.

"No," Dean replied calmly, "You're here because despite everything they do for you, you don't show your parents any respect. We're going to fix that."

 _Respect._ He was plenty respectful, he was sure, as disjointed thoughts and emotions began to cloud his mind. He pushed his anger down, and echoed something he'd heard a high schooler say at the comic book store, something he'd found witty and insightful with a touch of badass, "I respect my betters, not my elders."

To Mike, Dean seemed to be taking his words under consideration, although Cas would have interpreted the same expression as Dean doing his best not to laugh.

"Better at what?" Dean asked coolly.

Taking the question as mocking, and questioning his parents' motives and reasoning for leaving him with his grandfathers without a phone or a clear end point, Mike shoved away from the table and started for the stairs, intending to reach the guest room where he'd been instructed to move his bag when it had arrived.

Dean quickly stood, dwarfing him and blocking his route from the kitchen, "Sit down!"

Mike had been out of the habit of being dressed down by anyone with a significant size difference, and dropped back into his chair without another peep.

"You can really talk a big game, running off at the mouth with cracks like that, but when you speak, you need to be prepared to back it up. It was a simple question, and running away from it makes you look weak. So, answer it. Better, how? ...In what way are you better than the people who brought you into this world, and love you enough to dump you out here to get you to shape up?"

Raging internally, Mike looked to Cas, hoping he'd attempt to be the voice of reason, and tell Dean to calm himself, but Cas seemed to be in complete agreement not only with Dean's words, but also his method of delivery. Cornered by an authority figure too direct to run from, and plagued by his own thoughtless actions, frustrated tears began to run, despite doing his best to hide them and keep his jaw set.

"You're not here because they want your respect, Mike," Dean continued with an only slightly milder voice, "You're here because they are scared shitless of what you're gonna become if you don't have any to show in the first place. They will love you regardless, but they can't stand back, do nothing, let you keep screwing up your life like this, and watch while you tear apart your future. Do you understand that?"

Mike nodded, as Dean's point was driven home ending on a softer voice, his words still firm. He did his best to answer despite a shaking in his words, "Yes."

"Yes, what?" Dean asked out of habit. Formalities had dropped around the time Xander had come to them, but had occasionally been pulled out during Ben's teen years, and had been thrown Xander's way once or twice when Dean forgot which son he was speaking to.

"Yes, ...I understand?" Mike offered with genuine confusion.

Dean nodded, "We'll discuss that tomorrow. If you're done, clear your plate, hit the shower, you're in your room at seven-thirty, lights out at eight."

As Mike balked silently, he was sure he caught a surprised blink from Cas. 

"Four a.m. comes early," Dean continued.

Mike settled himself with a deep breath, and taking into consideration the open and attentive home Mike was used to, Dean didn't fault him for asking questions, "Is that what your dad was like?"

"That's what the military was like. And it was a walk in the park compared to living with that guy."

* * *

The light burned his eyes as he woke, the switch having been flipped suddenly, "What the hell...?"

"Out of bed. Don't make me flip that mattress with you on it," Dean's voice came from somewhere near the door.

Mike sat up, and through blurred vision, he could make out the clock on the bedside table, "I though you said four?"

Dean shrugged, "I'm going easy on you, since it's your first day. Five-thirty is still sleeping in. Now, it's Sunday, so you got the same two options I had, personal time, or chapel. Breakfast is at seven."

Unsteady, but determined, Mike hauled himself to his feet, "What's chapel?"

"Religion. Any religion you want, whatever floats your boat. But you're awake, and Pops isn't, so you're gonna keep it quiet."

Mike stopped rubbing his eyes for a moment, "Why is Pops still sleeping?"

"The man's got a desk job, and daylight savings time is the worst week for heart attacks for a reason. We let him sleep. You and me, though, we've got no excuse. So, you're gonna be downstairs in ten minutes, fully dressed, either bring a book, or, uh, y'know."

"So, I could just, like, meditate on the porch or something?"

Dean nodded, "Perfect. As long as you're not laying down."

* * *

Kevin was only mildly surprised to find Ivan waiting for him in the front of the salon, having not glanced at the schedule that morning. He was still out of sorts from Saturday's stressful events. He had thought about calling to remind Dean and Cas that Mike was supposed to be at school on Monday, but considering he was staying with the principal of the school, he found it unlikely Cas wouldn't know.

He led Ivan back to his chair, and discussed the cut he wanted, and Kevin was soon at work.

"So, how's stuff? Settling back in?"

"Teaching Cyndi to drive... I guess Julie got stressed and snapped at her, they never made it out of the driveway, but she's doing good, really takes her time."

"Yeah? That's good," Kevin replied, "I wouldn't worry too much about Julie, she'll calm down."

"When are you gonna teach Mike?"

"Oh, he already got a crash course this weekend with Dean's car. I wasn't there."

"What? No! There's no way Dean would put a brand new driver in the Impala."

"He didn't."

"Lucas?"

Kevin shook his head, "Nope... The little shit took matters into his own hands, got caught by none other than the actual lady-sheriff herself."

"Oh my god, did he get arrested?"

"Warning. Not that that's any better, I left him with Cas and Dean... If everything goes how I think it will, Dean's gonna get that car back to perfect, and maybe my kid, too. He's getting out of hand."

Ivan chuckled, "Yeah, sounds like it. Don't worry, though, I'll keep all that to myself. Susie hears stuff, but she doesn't keep her mouth shut."

"That reminds me, Mike said he noticed she's been following him around, probably a crush. Just a little head's up on that."

Kevin saw Ivan's eyebrows go up in the mirror before suddenly becoming concerned, "Susie as in my Susie, not a different one?"

"Unless there's another Susie Lowery, then, yeah, your kid."

"Shit... Well, at least if it's Mike, I don't think I've got too much to worry about."

"How do you mean?"

Ivan shrugged slightly, "Well, given that he's your kid, he's not likely to play into it, get her doing stuff they shouldn't be doing, or laugh at her for it and crush her spirit, so... I mean, not that stealing cars is okay with me, but taking into account boys in general, just, yikes... Now, later on, maybe, when they're older, I could be okay with that. I mean, you know? Knowing where he comes from, how he was raised to treat women, and all."

"Wait, you never talk to my kid, I just told you he stole a car, and you're saying that because I raised him, you'd be cool with him dating your daughter?"

"I guess I did."

Kevin laughed, "Best compliment I've ever received, hands down."

* * *

"Hannah," Cas started in guarded manner, "I need your help with something."

Hannah, seated on the other side of the very large desk with her usual half-smile nodded politely, "I'm listening, Cas. But let me remind you, I don't owe you any favors."

"I would never presume... Anyway, this is on behalf of a student. Middle school is, of course, rife with all sorts of mistakes, but he made a rather large one, and-"

"I've seen the emails," Hannah said softly.

"You have?"

"And the video. It's that Tran boy who tests average, assesses at the top of his class when he's too harried to remember how many he's marked wrong, and really wows the teachers on essays. The one that calls you 'Pop-pop.' Yes, I know."

Cas nodded, "Then you also have a good understanding of what he's capable of."

"Both good and bad, yes, I think I'm aware."

"If you put in a request to the district, tell them you're looking forward to helping him realize his potential, they'll be less likely to kick him out entirely. At this point, a year in the alternative program might do him some good, but currently... His parents are very concerned about the route his education will take if he's forced to leave school."

Hannah turned in her chair slightly, "Where does this leave me? If I press for his acceptance, I may be letting a troublemaker loose here. What kind of child is he, if he's so very bright, and also this troubled? If he's a danger to the other students, or himself? Are the gains worth the risk?"

"We are discussing a student falling through the gaps due to a mistake he didn't even fully understand. He was trying to be funny," Cas insisted.

"Like the gas masks? Yes, I remember that. I also remember watching one of your so-called sons deck another student right in front of me."

"Again, middle school is a very awkward time."

Hannah nodded, "I'm aware... So, what has been done to rectify the situation?"

* * *

Mike had never really noticed the security cameras in the ceilings before. They'd always just been there. Now that he knew for certain that the camera in the lab had been the only solid evidence Charlie had found, he was noticing them everywhere.

He eyed the computers in the library as he went to the information desk, and the chipper librarian greeted him warmly.

"Um, I'm not allowed to get anywhere near the computers, and... I need to look stuff up."

Forcing a friendly smile, but likely aware of exactly what he'd done, the woman nodded, "Okay, well, I can help you find titles and write them down."

"Okay... And what should I do about homework? I can't use my USB, and I don't have typewriter, and they want stuff digital anyway so they can scan it for plagiarism." Mike said quietly.

"That might be a little trickier. But if I know Ms Bradbury, she'll find you a way."

* * *

Jack rarely answered calls from numbers he didn't recognize, but keeping his fingers crossed, this one he answered, ducking out of the room and leaving Liam to continue stacking plastic cups on the coffee table.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Mom said I needed to call you, what's up?"

"Uh, not a lot, I guess," Jack said nonchalantly, "But I've been hanging out with your kid, and Mom seems to be off doing her own thing most of the time like he's not even there. That just seemed like a bad idea, so I took him home with me, and she hasn't even called to find out where he is, and it's been three days... That seem off to you?"

"I don't know. But she said she'd take him, so, that's where he's supposed to be."

Jack shook his head and mimed punching the wall nearest him, "Look, I'm sorry, but, that doesn't seem like a safe attitude for her to take about a kid who just turned five. He could get hurt, or go missing, that's not... Other parents and grandparents don't do that, except when you hear about it on the news after they find the kid. I'm looking out for him, here, okay? I'm not trying to start anything with you."

"You're watching him? What about work?" Kayla asked.

"I had some vacation time saved up. But listen, and I mean it, you really listen, okay?"

"Yeah?" Kayla asked with a hint of boredom.

"I'll take him. Just let mom know she's off the hook, and I'll take him. Xander moved out, so I've got a room for him, and Ben told me his uncle does family law, we could do temporary guardianship papers, and then I can put him on my insurance, get him into a doctor, and a daycare, so I can still work. I'll cover all of it, and it'll be done by the book, okay? I mean, he's gonna need someplace solid when school starts, this would give you time to make that happen, or... Y'know, if he needs to start school before you're ready, I'll be able to enroll him here."

"You're serious? Remember what happened with that ferret you had? The one we found in the attic five years later?"

Jack huffed, "Kayla, right now, something like that seems more likely with Mom. At least I know that's not normal. I'm over here getting him milk and books and stuff, and-"

Much to his annoyance, Kayla chuckled, "He can't even read yet!"

"Look, he's your kid, yeah, but you want him safe, right? Not face-down in the neighbor's pool?" Jack's voice began to crack, "I'm sorry, but I'm really starting to worry that I'm the only one seeing this where Mom's concerned, and I just can't leave him over there, okay?"

He heard Kayla give a deep sigh, "Okay, fine, tell me how the guardian thing works, how long does that go for?"

"I think until you sign papers saying you want him back. But we can ask Ben's uncle about it," Jack answered, rubbing his forehead, and stepping through the nearby doorway to check on Liam.

"I can't come back to town right now to do that, though. I'm in Minnesota."

"They can fax it. You sign it and fax it back. Any grocery store can do it, and I can send you some money when you do, okay? I can go to his office and they'll put you on speakerphone, you can ask all kinds of stuff in case you want to bail."

In truth, Jack had already been to Sam's office. He'd had plenty of questions, and this was the tactic that Sam had insisted would be the easiest, fastest manner of ensuring Liam was being properly cared for.

"Yeah, okay, I guess it's fine. But I need a number to call, I won't have this number next time."

Jack didn't ask what had happened to her phone, as he honestly didn't want to know, "Yeah, hang on, let me get this thing off the fridge."

He gave her the information, and the name and city in case it 'got lost,' and stressed once more that Liam would be better off with more solid access to medical care.

"He's fine," Kayla insisted, "I'll call them, and see if we can knock this out, then you can put him in a nasty germ factory with all the other snot-nosed droolers. Just don't come whining to me later, this was all you."

"Yeah, I know."

* * *

One of the changes Dean had insisted on, although it made little sense to Cas, was having Margaret call the school and change Mike's transportation to the bus. He was to go straight to the house and work on whatever homework he had after getting off the bus, and Monday afternoon was the first occurrence.

Not entirely certain what he'd find, Dean wasn't expecting to come home to find Mike sitting cross-legged at the living room coffee table with an old brick of a laptop in front of him, hooked up to what looked to be a secondary brick.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked quickly.

Mike was startled, and immediately began to explain, "Charlie said this would work. I'm sorry, I don't know if you know, I'm doing all this stuff to not break the rules, but she said... It's school, I swear. I gotta do this for school, and it's not on the internet!"

"Relax," Dean said, motioning him to stay where he was, "It that Windows '98?"

"Yeah... She dug it out of a closet and said it won't do wifi, and this thing will burn my homework onto CDs because the teachers don't have floppy disc drives... And then she showed me what a floppy disc was. But she said if I did this right in the living room, you could see it wasn't hooked up to the internet, so it's not breaking any rules, and look..." Mike held up a dusty CD case labeled 'Encarta,' "I can look up anything that happened before nineteen-ninety-four, and it's searchable."

Dean nodded in approval, "Good. Good, you had a genuine problem to work out this time, and you stayed within the rules... You know this thing probably has solitaire on it, too, right?"

* * *

Julie had stayed at the diner late, avoiding going home. She was certain her children were fine, but the living situation was wearing on all of them.

The house was quiet enough that she'd thought the children were in their rooms for the night, until she heard the sounds of television coming from the guest room. Upon further investigation at the open door, Ivan was settled on the middle of the large bed with Eli on his lap, and the girls close by, a black and white horror movie playing on the large screen on the dresser across the room.

"All you kids have school in the morning," Julie said, turning on the light as Ivan reached for the remote to pause the film, "Well, the ones I gave birth to, anyway."

Eli and Susie both fell into a round of complaints, only to be cut short by Ivan, "Listen to your mother, and do as she says! She knows more about this than I do, she's actually here all the time with you. She knows what you need."

Watching them file out of the room, he turned to Julie, "We saved you some dinner. It's in the microwave, so you'll want to take the foil off it first-"

"I ate at the diner... What are you doing, Ivan?"

"What? This? Spending time with my kids."

"On a school night?"

"I lost track of time," Ivan answered, "It's hard to keep track sometimes when I get home, you know that. It wasn't on purpose. And maybe I was feeling a little nostalgic, too. Remember when we'd all watch a movie, and they'd fall asleep in our bed, and we'd come in here-"

"I'm not doing this right now. I have to open tomorrow, and you need to sleep, too, if you're taking them to school," Julie said, making for the door, "And you need to at least get them ready in the morning, honestly, because Cyndi's taking on way too much for them lately, and when she's not, she's babysitting, so, I guess she needs some time to get bored."

"I got it. School, more social time for Cyndi. But what about you?"

"What about me? I take care of myself."

"Julie-... Okay, fine, whatever," Ivan said dismissively.

Angrily, Julie closed the door, hissing out her reply to keep the children from overhearing it, "What? Am I horning in on fun time? Are you sick of missing out on summer because that's when your ticket sales go up? If you want to see your kids and be a parent, they are right here! Where are you?"

Ivan's voice was low as he answered, "I was trying to ask if you wanted to schedule a night off. Maybe a weekend, have me take over so you could get away from work and the kids at the same time, because I am trying, I am here, and you might not want me here, but you're still my wife, and I'll be damned if you're not on my priorities list right after them... Whatever you want to do with that is your business."

Julie spun around to leave, but before she got the door open, Ivan posed the question they'd both been avoiding for years, "Do you want to divorce?"

"I don't know," Julie answered, pulling the door open.

"I don't," Ivan said plainly, "But I'm kind of tired of banging my head against a wall... Figure out what you want. I'd fight for this, but not if it means fighting against you."

Julie kept her back to him as she slipped from the room, but he had the feeling it was intentional, in order to hide tears. He was correct.

* * *

"Why the bus?" Cas asked over the top of his phone as Dean went through the bedroom, picking up laundry and sorting out a pair of sweat pants to sleep in.

"He needs it. Gets him a few minutes each day with nobody breathing down his neck, where he can't get up to anything... Also walks him right past the office in the afternoon, while Margaret's there, but so far, no dice."

"You want him walking past the office?"

Dean pulled the sweat pants on and turned off the light before settling on the bed next to him, "He's not allowed to use the phone, how else is he going to talk to his mom? And, anyway, this puts the ball in his court. Nobody said he couldn't see her or talk to her, and maybe if it gets bad enough for him to want to take the first step, he'll appreciate what he's got... She's hurting, but if he takes a few steps in her direction, it'll be the right direction."

"Does he know he's allowed in the office?"

Dean adjusted his pillow, trying not to yawn, "If he can work up the guts to go in there without being told he's allowed, apologizing to her is gonna be small potatoes."

Cas plugged his phone in and set it down on the nightstand, settling in, himself, "I can't imagine what she's feeling right now."

"It hurts, probably. A lot, even... But he's with us, he's not on the streets, locked up, or dead. So, y'know, she'll get him back."

Turning off the lamp, Cas listened to Dean's breathing for a moment, "What if all we do is make this worse?"

"'S boundaries, sweetheart. Kids need boundaries. That's why they push you," Dean mumbled, "How'd the Hannah thing go?"

"I think I've developed a brand new theoretical method for something, but if I share it with you, it becomes premeditated."

"That good, huh?"

"I got her to agree to it. She has some conditions, though, she wants to make a deal with Mike."

Dean turned over on his side, "Yeah, that doesn't sound shady at all. Give me your back."

Turning away from him, Cas gave a small jolt as Dean took told of his shoulder, which had, as he predicted, begun to lock up in the muscles.

"Don't make too much noise, we're not trying to traumatize him in there," Dean said quietly, making Cas chuckle.

* * *


	62. Chapter 62

* * *

True to his word, Ivan managed a morning schedule, quickly falling into routine, dropping his children off at their respective schools on time. Start times and distance left a short window where it was just him and Cyndi in the car, but he didn't feel she was yet experienced enough to drive through active school zones with heavy traffic, especially when children were walking in those areas.

Having dropped Susie off at the middle school, he started for the high school, and Cyndi abruptly turned off the stereo.

"What's up? You want to talk?" Ivan asked.

"You know, I know you guys are having problems right now, but... Mom only cries when you're here."

Ivan tightened his grip on the wheel for a brief moment, "She's got a lot to think about right now, and she needs to work through it. I'm not here to make it worse, even if that's how it might look from an outside perspective... And, honestly, you can't know that, not unless you're following her around every second."

"I don't get it, you're always on our asses to make us be nice to her, and then you get home, and she's miserable."

"Marriage is complicated, and you have other things to worry about, you need to turn your attention to those, and leave yourself out of this. Whatever's up between your mom and me, that has nothing to do with you kids."

"Yeah, right," Cyndi groused, "Just tell me this, if you guys split up, who are we gonna live with?"

"Your mother would get custody, and the house, and as much alimony as I can manage. I would get a second, smaller house here in town for seeing you kids, and short of telling me to disappear, I'd have her make the decisions on how we run things."

"I don't know what's worse," Cyndi said, her voice straining, "That you actually thought about it, or that you wouldn't try for custody."

"Oh, come on, Cyndi!" Ivan exclaimed, "It's not like I don't want my kids, okay? I'm not abandoning you, but I am not geared up to be a single dad, not with my career! Why would I take you from your mother and then dump you with a nanny? You can't want that, that doesn't make any sense! And of course I thought it through, I have kids to plan for. I'm a parent, we do that!"

Cyndi carefully touched a fingertip to the corners of her eyes, attempting to dispel the small amount of tears creeping in without ruining her eyeliner, "Are we your only kids?"

"Yes," Ivan answered in a snap, insulted by the question.

"Robby Cartwright said you used to do drugs."

Ivan's eyes narrowed, but stayed focused on the road as he pulled into the high school parking lot, "Robby Cartwright is a fucking moron. I've never used an illegal drug in my life. I got arrested and served a short sentence for marijuana possession, because I happened to be in the same car with a bag of it. I know my mugshot is on a t-shirt, and I don't care. I don't care what anyone thinks of me, but I am not going to lie to you, and as I don't lie to you, I expect you to keep your mouth shut about anything I tell you as your father, okay?"

"Fine," Cyndi answered, opening the door of the car.

"I love you. Stay safe," Ivan called.

"Whatever," she said, closing the door.

* * *

The bed was otherwise empty when Kevin woke, and with a quick walk through the house, he found Margaret had fallen asleep sitting with her back to the wall just inside of Mike's room. He dropped to a crouch in front of her, and rubbed her upper arms gently, ignoring the large, empty glass close by.

Groggily, she came out of it, but realizing where she was, her face fell.

"Mags... Hey," Kevin said softly, pulling her into his arms.

"I want my baby home."

"Me too, but he's okay. You know, Ben and Xander turned out great, they know what they're doing, and when he gets back, we'll have a better handle on things," he answered, "I know this is hard, but he'll be back soon."

Margaret curled against his chest, letting the tears flow, as she had several times before.

* * *

The bakery was not set up as a dine-in establishment, most of the space was work space, and the shop front was mainly taken up by large glass cases and the register, but off in a corner sat a tiny bistro table and two wrought iron chairs, painted in warm colors like the rest of the interior, which was the only difference between that set, and the other two sets outside on the wide sidewalk.

Liam sat in an awkward ball of limbs with a tablet in a large, rubberized case in one of the small chairs in a manner no adult would find comfortable, watching some video of a person playing a video game. He was the first thing Aubrey spotted when she walked in.

"Oh, dear god, you spawned," she said in disgust, turning to Millie, who stood behind the counter, "Isn't one of you enough?"

Millie smiled widely, shooting daggers from her eyes, "I'm babysitting. But thanks for the vote of confidence."

"Right. Well, your husband is a dirty rotten liar. Told me you were dumping this place on me. Not much of a crowd, though. How fast are we losing money?"

"We?" Millie asked.

"Uh, yeah."

"I thought after you burst in the other day, Grandma had had enough of your crap?"

Aubrey rolled her eyes, "I'm not going to bother her about you. I'm just going to challenge the will later, say you were abusing the elderly. You're not worth it. Also, if you're cooking more than literal bread, I'm going to have somebody go over the books when I get it, and get you for embezzlement."

With a subtle hand gesture, Millie waved her closer, getting Aubrey to lean over the counter as she reached back to untie her apron strings, "If you want this place, you better be ready to run it on your own. I will put my share in it up for grabs to whoever will shell out, and you can run this place into the ground for all I care, but I sure as hell won't be working with you, or for you. You can whine and beg to get stuff you don't deserve from Grandma, but you aren't going to make money off my efforts. So, you want this place? Work for it. Here you go, I'm going on break."

Millie slammed the apron down on the counter between them, earning a look of surprise from Aubrey before she circled the counter, and collected Liam, leading him outside by the hand. Closing the door behind her, she waited a few steps before looking down at the small boy, "Are you ready for some lunch?"

"It's lunch time?" he asked.

"It will be," she answered, checking her watch and letting a sly grin take over her face, "In about ten minutes. If we hurry up, we can beat the lunch rush... I'm sure Aubrey doesn't mind covering for me."

* * *

"You're still keeping records of everything, right?" Sam asked.

Jack nodded, "Yeah, everything I can remember to write down."

"Okay, some stuff will be easier than others, but keep pointing towards that goal of doing this voluntarily. If you can get her to sign him over, leave her that option to see him, you're not obstructing anything, that looks better where you're concerned. Keep everything else as back-up. When you get him in to see a doctor, make sure you tell them you have just taken him in, you haven't waited, all the waiting was on Kayla, okay? You're the responsible one. Ask for a print-out of anything they tell you, anything they find. He needs glasses, get it on paper. He has asthma, get it on paper. He's not on target for anything, you get them to make a record of it. Okay?"

Jack nodded, "Yeah."

"He's got his own room at your place?" Sam asked.

"Yeah."

"Car seat?"

"He's in a booster."

"Okay, when you get that check-up, ask the pediatrician about height and weight recommendations to be sure he's in the right seat. I'm not going to sugar-coat this, Jack," Sam said with a slight shake of his head, "If she drags you into court to stop this, the court will do everything they can to put him back with her, or your parents. You've gotta be better than perfect."

"It's worth the risk," Jack answered.

Sam nodded, "Even if they cut you off for this?"

The weight of his family's wrath and indifference had often fallen on his shoulders, and he had accepted it as unavoidable. He had learned to make their excuses for them, that it was just how they were, that nothing would change, and to love them was to love their flaws. But this time, it was happening to someone else. Someone too small to know any better.

Thinking of his nephew, he met Sam's eyes, "At this rate, I'm about to cut them off, myself."

* * *

Of all the chores Dean had found, or possibly made up, for Mike to do, the one he most preferred was power-washing. The first time had been the walls of the paint shed, and as Dean had let him take over after a careful demonstration, he found it oddly soothing to see layers of dirt and grime stripped away from the outside of the building with a single pass of the wand.

Having finished the back porch, and the fence, yet still having some time before assisting with dinner, Mike decided a smaller project would be a good option, and lugged the power-washer through the parking area, across the front entrance of the shop, and set up close to the Singer Automotive sign, located in some brushy overgrowth close to the highway.

The posts on either side were easy enough, carefully cleaned to a bright white-painted metal, which was an interesting sight, because he'd thought for certain they were brown, and possibly wooden like the flat panel that held the lettering between them. It occurred to him as he finished the second post, not noticing paint flaking away at the end of the sign board where the water had hit it, that he'd only ever seen it from the road. The posts had always been brown, he was sure.

Distracted by his thoughts regarding the discovery of the true color of the posts beneath the dirt, he raised the nozzle, and gave a strong burst, sweeping from one side to the other, only to stop, shut off the machine, and stare in horror at what was now a blank expanse of sopping wet aged wood.

"Ohhh, shit," he breathed, watching water run down the lower half of the sign from the area that had formerly read 'Singer Automotive Repair Shop.' It drained over what was left of a stylized image of a classic car, and the phone number for the land line for the shop.

His moment of panic quickly gave way to embarrassment and disappointment in himself, and, unsure what else to do, he tromped through the tall weeds back to the shop, quickly walking inside.

Margaret looked up from the desk as the door opened, finding her son clearly anxious, and slightly red, likely from being out in the heat, "Mike? What's wrong?"

"I screwed up. I wrecked the sign. Where's Grandpa?" Mike asked quickly.

"In his office," Margaret answered softly, watching as Mike went straight to the door, opening it. She couldn't help but eavesdrop, having not spoken to her son in several days.

"I just tried to clean the sign, and the whole name came off," Mike spouted with the sound of tears threatening.

Dean seemed to be holding back, but answered steadily, after a pause, "Okay... The sign out front? For the shop?"

"Yeah. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, I was just trying to clean it, I swear! And the sides looked great, and when I hit it with the water, it just stripped all the paint right off the board!"

"Just completely gone, huh?" Dean asked calmly.

"The top of it... The car and the number are still there."

Margaret didn't see it as Dean shrugged, "Might as well finish the job, then. Can't repaint it if it's only half done."

"Repaint it?" Mike asked.

"Man up, Mike. You make a mess, you clean it up. You break it, you fix it. It's not worth crying about. But if it takes more than a couple days, it could affect business, so... Y'know, go get it done."

"Just paint it back on?" the boy clarified.

"You got a better idea?" Dean asked openly.

"No, sir."

Still breathing hard, and his face still visibly stressed, Mike started for the front door. Margaret watched as it closed behind him, trying to place the feeling that seemed so very off to her. Her eyes followed his shadow on the window until it dipped out of view, and it struck her. He had reached a point of feeling upset with himself over his own carelessness.

She had seen his repentant behavior over intentional damage before, which was a rare occurrence, and he'd grown out of it, but so many accidents seemed to slip by with just a dismissive utterance of 'oops.' Mistakes never really bothered him, because, like his father, most of his mistakes were academic, and planned.

Getting up, she went to the window and watched as Mike, his heart heavy, if his face was any indication, turned on the machine, swept the powerful spray across the front of the sign twice more for good measure, and then dragged it around to the back, clearing the rest of the paint from the board.

* * *

It was after dark when Claire made her turn off the highway, and onto the gravel county road, setting the Chevelle in park as she climbed out to pick up the mail at the mailboxes.

The yard lights were on, the sharp electric lighting giving every shadow a harsh edge, and it took her a moment to notice as she looked up from the boxes that Mike was standing on a ladder pulling a tarp over the now blank sign in front of the shop. He had tied two corners around one of the posts, and was struggling to get the center of the tarp to lay smoothly across the top of the board.

"Mike, honey? What are you doing?" Claire called, her motherly instincts taking over.

Turning slightly on the ladder, he caught sight of her, then climbed down to move it over to the other side of the sign, "I screwed up with the pressure washer. It took off the paint. Lucas said I should put this up until the board is all the way dry, and I can repaint it."

"Oh," she answered, watching with interest as the tarp opened further with some effort, revealing more of a black text that had been applied, "Did he tell you what to write on it, too?"

"Um, yeah?" he answered cautiously, climbing up the ladder once again.

Claire nodded, pulling her phone from her pocket and turning on the camera, "Bunch of savages in this town."

"What do you mean?" he asked, achieving his goal with the top of the makeshift signage, and climbing lower to affix the corners to the post.

She managed to snap a photo of the words while his back was turned, which read 'I assure you, we're open!'

"Don't worry about it. I'll tell you when you're a little older," she answered, "How's stuff going? Did Grandpa get you up to a hundred push ups yet?"

"No, just twenty. He said he's not going to make me do anything he can't do."

Claire scoffed, "He means 'won't do.' Challenge him to forty next time, it won't kill you, and he needs the exercise."

"Okay, I'll try. But not Pops, right?"

"What do you mean?" Claire asked.

"Well, Grandpa said he shouldn't mess with his sleep schedule, or overdo it, since he had that heart attack. He said stress could make him have another one, but yesterday Pops did sit-ups with me and said it was nonsense."

Claire glanced at the small house in the distance and chuckled, "Grandpa's a softy about Pops. That's why they're married. Pops knows his limits, and if something's really wrong, he'll say so, or he won't have to, because you'll already be calling 9-1-1. Otherwise, he's fine."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. At this point, it's almost like it never happened. Promise."

"Okay," Mike said, finishing his knot, and climbing down to fold up the ladder.

"Watch your feet, don't step on any snakes," Claire called, returning to her car.

The distance to her own driveway was not terribly long, but it did occur to her as she made her way there, that the boy had to have been perfectly secure in his trust in Dean to attempt to go for a joyride in the Impala, as neither of her brothers would ever have considered it.

On the other hand, Kevin might have.

* * *

With some insistence, and demonstration, Jack managed to get Liam to brush his teeth, something he hadn't even considered until some digging through his measly bag of belongings had turned up no toothbrush. Thankfully, he had purchased a multi-pack and had new ones on hand.

"Okay, into bed," Jack said, easing Liam over his shoulder by his feet slowly enough for the boy adjust himself. Jack picked up the small stack of books that had taken up residence on the floor, neatly pushed up against the wall by Liam himself, and sat down on the side of the bed with them, "You pick two, and I'll pick one, deal? But that's all I'm reading tonight."

"You know how?"

"Yeah," he answered, "I went to school and learned how, just like you're going to do... I talked to your mom today. She, uh, she misses you."

Liam seemed to think it over and then shook his head.

"What?' Jack asked with a chuckle, "What is that?"

"She doesn't miss me. If she did, then I would go with her."

"Well, anyway, she said you're going to live with me for a while, here."

Liam looked around the room as if he were seeing it in a new light, "For how long?"

"Until she's ready. I asked her to sign some papers, and if everything goes right, then you'll be here with me until she stops moving around so much."

"A long time?"

"I don't know. But I hope so. I'm going to try to make it be a really long time, because I think you're really cool, and I want to keep hanging out like this," Jack said quietly, fanning out the books and waiting while Liam chose two, picked one at random, and set the rest of the stack aside, "We're going to get you in to see a doctor pretty soon, figure out why your nose is always runny, and get your eyes checked, and go to the dentist. We have to make sure you're healthy before school starts in the fall."

"So I don't make the other kids sick?"

Jack shrugged, "That's the idea. But if you need glasses or braces or something, that doesn't mean you're going to get anybody sick."

"Somebody told my mom to put me at the hospital and let them keep me, but she said no. I don't want to go there if they steal kids."

Jack scratched the back of his head, "Well, they wouldn't do that. Most of the time, if you went to the hospital, they would let you go home as soon as you're better. They didn't keep me when I had my tonsils out, and they didn't keep Ben when I-... When he broke his arm. They just took really good care of us, and they let us go home, so you don't have anything to worry about."

* * *

It was not entirely out of the ordinary for Jaime to be the first one awake, as waking early was a habit developed by a weak bladder. Alfie had gotten him a clock that was set to change color at five-thirty in the morning, and Jaime had clear instructions that if it had not changed color, he was to go back to bed.

The house was dark, and after returning from the bathroom, he found that the time was now appropriate to stay awake, which usually meant playing with his toys for a while, but this particular morning, he had a concern.

Melody's door creaked as he pushed it open, only a faint light coming from the large windows as he climbed onto the bed next to her. He wasn't sure if she'd felt the shift or heard the door, but her response, though mumbled, was clear, "Go away, Jaime."

"I can't. Haven said yesterday that he's gonna beat me up today."

His sister gave a disinterested flap of her hand, "Then kick his butt. He's probably not tough."

A fussy whine overtook his voice, which, being the baby for the past six years had taught him would work, "He's gonna get me, Mel! You're bigger, you have to help!"

Sitting up straight with a look that made him certain she was about to push him off the bed, he froze, "Go back to your room and stop bugging me, and I'll walk you to your class. But I can't just watch you all the time. You have to tell teachers this stuff."

"Okay," Jaime answered meekly as she lay down again, "Can I stay if I'm quiet?"

Melody gave another flap of her hand to hush him. He wasn't sure what the flap was supposed to mean, but as she went back to sleep, he curled up at her feet and began to doze. He wasn't sure if he'd fallen asleep, but he heard it when the door opened further and realized it was much closer to dawn as his father's voice came through the room, "Melody, time to- Jaime, hey? Did you have a bad dream?"

Shaking himself awake he began to sit up, but was quickly lifted from the bed, "No."

"You're supposed to sleep in your bed, not bug your sister."

The blankets rustled behind him as Melody dragged herself from the bed, "He wouldn't bug me if he didn't talk when I'm trying to sleep."

A morning routine that had been nearly set in stone for the almost-completed school year made the usual tasks indistinguishable from every other day, and before he knew it, Jaime was unloaded from the car and following after his sister into the main entrance of the school. She was several steps ahead of him, but he rushed to catch up, "Are you going to help?"

"If nobody stops me," she answered quietly.

Melody passed the hallway to the third grade classrooms where normally she'd break away, this time walking close with her brother until they reached the row of hooks for backpacks and coats outside his classroom door.

"Now what?" he asked.

Melody dropped to pretend to tie her shoe, only to spot that his own was undone, and began tying it for him, "Put your backpack up, and get your folder out, but take a long time."

As instructed, he shrugged out of his backpack, dawdling as he wrapped it's top loop around the double hook that hung below the lunch box shelf, and unzipped his pack to retrieve his take-home folder. A brief second of doubt crossed his mind that the boy in question wouldn't show up, that Melody would have to leave before Haven arrived, but it had barely become apparent when someone pushed past him roughly, knocking his cheek against the shelf, "Move it!"

Jaime stepped back, cupping his cheek as Melody stood, approaching the boy, "Is this him?"

"Yeah," Jaime fussed.

Melody took a stance she likely wasn't aware of which closely mimicked both Claire and Dean when angered, and raised an aggressive finger to the other boy's face, "You don't push people, _Haven._ And you don't mess with Jaime, because if you do, I'm gonna find you."

"Yeah? And do what?" the boy answered snottily.

"If I tell you, then you could make a plan so I can't do it. I'm not stupid, like you, so I'm not going to tell you what it is, duh," stepping further back, she said quietly to Jaime, in a voice loud enough for Haven to hear, "If he messes with you when the teachers can't see, try not to get any of his brains on you. That's how they find out."

The look of disgust on Haven's face soon turned to one of concern, "Why? What is he gonna do?"

Melody shrugged, unaware of the authority figure passing by as she opened her mouth, "Well it's gonna stop when he squishes you into a pancake and glues you to the wall, and uses your guts to make a big smiley face on the floor."

Stopping in his tracks, Gabe backed up a few steps, and turned his attention downward and to the side, and was met with two familiar faces, as, with their parents' permission, Cas had given him a small school portrait of each of the children.

"Novak, right?" Gabe asked, pointing to them in turn, "James, and Melody? Uh, yeah. Though so. Jaime, you're off to class, buddy. Mel, you seem to be lost. I better walk you over to the right hallway. We can have a little chat on the way."

Sullen, but undefeated and unintimidated, Melody fell into step beside him, looking over her shoulder to see Haven give Jaime a bit more space as Jaime entered the classroom.

"Okay, so, you've been hanging out with your Pop-pop, by the sound of things. But you're in third grade, missy. You can't go around threatening kindergartners," Gabe said clearly.

Melody didn't look at him, watching her surroundings instead, "He was being mean to my brother. He pushed him right there in front of me."

"I get it. I really do. I hate watching jerks get their way. But think about it this way, how's he going to learn to stand up for himself if you do it for him? The short version is that he won't. And if he doesn't, what's gonna happen when you go to middle school? You won't be here to protect him, and he won't know what to do. So... You want to look after him in the long run? Don't be strong for him, you teach him to be strong."

"So, get him to be meaner? He can't. He's too little."

"The kid who pushed him is just as little, and a whole lot meaner. Give Jaime just a little bit of mean to work with, and you'll be doing him a favor for the rest of his life," Gabe insisted, stopping at her classroom, "But you try that bit again, or have him talking about smiley faces made of guts, and I'm going to have to call your parents. So put a sock in it."

* * *


	63. Chapter 63

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: I found out there's a Con coming back to Texas next summer, so guess how fast I made a saving-jar. Oh, yeah. Fingers crossed!
> 
> Here we go! The "Jack is not Canon-Jack, but it would totally work if he was, and do I add him in the characters, or do I not'" bit is kind of messing me up still. Mine predates Canon-Jack. Not sure if I'm spelling canon right. I'm exhausted, and this weekend was hellish, but I succeeded in my various takings-on.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Every little bit, even just the way my 'hits' number jumps helps keep me on track! Love you all! FW)

* * *

Having found there was a considerable wait list at the two well preferred daycares in town, Jack was left with little option than to beg assistance from his family of choice for the interim. Thankfully Alfie, having heard plenty on the situation from Ben, volunteered his time as he was now well experienced in caring for children, well equipped to do so, and had he actually admitted it, bored.

Alfie sat with his back to the porch railing, his legs stretched out on the steps, a laptop on his lap, fussing over some tiny patch of shading as Liam played on the sizable playground in the area of the back yard that had only been cleared since Jaime was born. Cocoa followed after him, as she often did with Melody and Jaime, wagging her tail, and occasionally following him to the top of the slide before turning around to come back down and meet him on the ground.

Alfie's phone began to ring, and seeing the number for the elementary school, he answered it.

* * *

"Is school fun?" Liam asked, eyeing the building as Alfie parked the car.

"Uh, yeah. Lots of fun," Alfie answered distractedly.

He led the child inside, and signed in at the office, only to be brought to the assistant principal's office right away. He caught sight of Melody at one of the desks in the hall, and the look on her face made it clear that the next person to attempt to speak to her was in for an earful, although from what he'd heard on the phone, her voice should have been at least a little tired.

"Mr Novak, I'm sorry to ask you to come in like this, but-"

"Is the gym teacher around? I'd like to handle this as quickly as possible, and as directly as possible," Alfie said meekly.

"Uh, I'm not sure, I was hoping to address Melody's outburst first, and then we can discuss how to handle-"

"No."

Across the desk from him, as he pulled Liam onto his knee, the woman gave a look of surprise, "No?"

"No. There's nothing to handle, you told me what Melody was yelling and why, when you called, and even though I haven't spoken to her directly, just from your version, I think she handled it perfectly."

"You think creating a fuss and disrupting class at the top of her lungs was-"

"Warranted," Alfie stressed the word, "Yes, I do."

"Sir, maybe we should also contact her mother, just so everyone is aware, and we can-"

"That is a terrible idea. Her mother has a history this could trigger, and if you think Melody made a fuss today, you haven't seen Claire. I promise you, I'm the person you want handling this. So, I suggest you send my daughter back to class, and not have her sitting at that desk for another minute, pull her when the coach is available and have the coach apologize. Maybe even make it a rule not to-"

"Mr Novak, she was screaming about-..." she gestured to the child in his lap as she skipped the word she'd already mentioned on the phone, "Hm, harassment. If you think the other students weren't going to get riled up by hearing that-"

Alfie's demeanor went hard as steel, "What would you call it? It's not a new rule, wearing shorts under dresses for gym, she knows how to dress herself. Pulling up her skirt in the middle of the gym to check, in front of everyone was absolutely unreasonable, and had she forgotten her shorts, she would have had her underwear flashed to everyone. If you think that's fine, maybe you should have the same coach lift your dress in front of the next assembly. Now, send my daughter back to class, get her that apology by the end of the day, and make sure this doesn't happen again, and we can put this behind us, or I put in exactly one phone call, and this whole place gets shut down until further notice, and it happens on your watch."

"You can't shut down a public school over-"

"I have unlimited resources. I can have a team of legal professionals in here by the time you dismiss for the day, and you won't be able to unlock the doors tomorrow."

Her face was a mixture of reactions as she clearly considered calling his bluff, and part of him wished she would. She settled into a disapproving look as she carefully chose her next words, "I think that's a disproportionate reaction to the matter at hand."

"I'd consider it standing my ground and supporting my daughter."

She watched him carefully as she shifted in her chair slightly, "If you don't mind me asking, where would Melody pick up those words in the first place?"

"Probably her Uncle Kevin. He works at Slice and Slay."

The woman nodded, "Okay. Yes, I've heard of him. And while I appreciate the girl-power stance,-"

"Only when it suits you," Alfie answered bitterly.

"-the amount of disruption she caused-"

"I think we're done here. I'll be signing my children out for the rest of the day. I expect a call from Gabe after this has been settled, to let me know whether they'll be in tomorrow. Feel free to call my wife, but she's likely to show up to chew you out after Melody talks to her. Provided you and the gym teacher still have jobs when that happens, that is."

* * *

Mike wasn't entirely sure what to expect when he was pulled for a meeting in a conference room, but Cas had warned him he'd be speaking with the high school principal that day, and that she would be watching him like a hawk.

The room was small, little more than a closet with a table and chairs, and in the back of the room were shelves that proved the room had many uses.

Hannah was already sitting down when he entered, and Cas motioned for him to take a seat across from her. She seemed pleasant, and set her arms along the edge of the table as she laced her fingers and leaned forward, "Hello, Mike."

"Hi," he answered quietly.

"Your Grandpa was just telling me how you found a way around your internet ban in order to get your homework done. Very creative. Very smart," she added.

"Um, Ms Bradbury helped me, I didn't really-"

"She must think a lot of you, to help you after you put her job at risk... You do know she could have been replaced, don't you?"

Mike's hopes for a constructive conversation fell drastically as he nodded, "She um, she says I have potential."

"I've heard that, yes," Hannah answered with a slow nod, "But the possibility of that potential manifesting in a destructive way is what gives me cause for concern about allowing you into my high school... I've seen your assessment scores. They don't match your grades. I thought, at first, it was a lack of effort, but then I saw a pattern. You're holding yourself back."

"What do you mean?" Mike asked, meeting her eyes.

"You know exactly what I mean. And you're going to stop playing dumb, both now, and academically. If you want my help, you're going to push yourself, you're going to excel, and you're going to put in the work. I honestly don't care if you graduate in two years with a few college courses already completed, but you are going to put in the same amount of effort as the other students do, regardless of how far that takes you. No more slacking. Straight A's, and extra credit. I will have nothing less."

His breathing went shaky, as it was clear to him that if she had caught on, from across town in a completely different school, others must have noticed as well. A glance at Cas told him his secret was out.

"Will I have your absolute cooperation in this, Mike? Or would you rather take your G.E.D. early, and no longer be my problem?" Hannah asked, "It's only your education, and your future, after all."

* * *

With a few minutes warning that he had three hungry children and time to collect her, Claire was washed up and out the door of the in-town location just as Alfie pulled into the parking lot. Settling into the passenger seat with a smile, she commented, "I didn't know you guys had a half day today!"

"We didn't, mom," Jaime spoke up, "We just left."

She turned her attention on her husband, only to find a look on his face that made it clear his actions had not been frivolous or less than responsible.

"Okay," she answered, "That's okay, we can talk about that later."

The car was oddly quiet, aside from Liam and Jaime chatting, and she risked a glance at Melody, who seemed stressed as she stared out the window.

* * *

"...So she starts screaming in the middle of the gym, going off on Dana, and Dana's trying to shut her up, she's yelling that she's being sexually harassed-"

"By a female teacher? Where do kids get this stuff?"

"Right? I mean, somebody has been coaching her to say this, you can tell. Probably just itching for a lawsuit hoping for a payout."

Gabe was listening as he crossed the work room to get to the fresh pot of coffee, his attention to the conversation well hidden.

"Anyway, I get her dad to come in and talk about how she can't go throwing a fit like that, and this ass has the gall to tell me he's going to close the school if Dana doesn't apologize. And it was his kid throwing a fit. I'm like, I don't care what your last name is, I don't care that your _wife_ and her dad have a business, there's no way you've got that kind of pull in this town if I've never heard of you."

Gabe turned around, leaning on the counter, "So, uh, who's this dad we're talking about?"

"The Novak kids," the assistant principal answered, "Melody had a fit, and I guess her dad is one of those 'not my little angel' types. It's going to be rough on them when they enter the real world and find out things don't work that way."

"And he threatened to close the school?"

"Right? Like that's going to happen. Just the typical 'I pay your salary, I'm going to tell on you, you'll never work in this town again' crap. He says he wants you to call him or his kids won't be in tomorrow."

Gabe nodded, "Okay, listen, you do not want to piss this guy off, so you better run this whole thing by me."

She chuckled, "What's he going to do? Send his wife over to cut our brakes?"

With the hand that wasn't holding his coffee, he motioned for her to follow after him, and made for the door. Stepping into the hallway, he led the way to a window that overlooked the playground and outdoor P.E. equipment, and a large rounded amphitheater that served as an outdoor classroom, and a stage for small performances, "What do you see?"

"Outside?" she asked quizzically, "The playground, the track, and the outdoor classroom."

"Yeah... Pretty nice, considering this is a title one school, in a tiny little podunk of no consequence... See, the guy changed his name to Novak because in his professional life, he still goes by his birth name, which is associated with a rather large company. He wants his kids to have a normal life, in your typical three-bed two-bath, white picket fence and nobody hired to pick up your toys and wipe your backside kind of way. He had a full blown playground put into their back yard because he felt like it, but it occurred to him that Mel was gonna be here every day in a few years, so he very generously donated this brand new equipment, the shade structure, repaved the basketball court, and a huge grant fell into our laps that we never applied for, which covered a whole lot more than the rest of it... The Singer shops have nothing on this guy. He doesn't buy things, he thinks about them, and they happen. He doesn't want the district's money, because he's provided a good chunk of it to start with. So whatever happened with his daughter today, and keep in mind, she's a relative of mine, you better learn to see his side real fast."

"If he's that rich, his kids could go to a better school."

"He's rich enough he doesn't need them to go to a better school. They don't need a better school. The guy is loaded with a capital 'oaded."

In the empty hallway, she swore under her breath, "Okay... I'll figure something out."

* * *

Jaime and Liam sat together at the table in the diner, directly across from Claire, and Melody was a bit further away, across from Alfie. 

The feeling Claire had, that Alfie had control of whatever situation was occurring, was beginning to slip as Melody gave her drink preference in a hushed voice, avoiding looking at anyone directly, entirely unlike the confident, and often overly confident young woman she was raising.

"Mel, are you okay?" Claire asked.

Melody looked up quickly, meeting her eyes, but turned them to her father, "Daddy, am I in trouble?"

"No, sweetie, the coach is in trouble. But I was having a hard time getting that through the vice principal's head, so I thought it would be better if you weren't there while they figure this out," Alfie said, calmly giving Claire's hand a squeeze, and making a note of it that her face seemed to be losing color, "Honey, relax."

"What happened?" Claire asked, considering pulling Melody away from the table to question her privately.

"P.E., the coach decided to take it upon herself to make sure Mel had shorts on. In front of everybody. Which was inappropriate, and even though she did have them on, it was embarrassing," Alfie turned back to Melody with a nod, "And not okay, and Melody was absolutely right to scream bloody murder about it until they made her go to the office and called me, because we will always stand up for her if somebody messes with her clothes like that. Same goes for Jaime, or anybody else."

Claire found her hand was shaking as she tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear, "I think maybe I should take a minute and talk to Mel-"

"I think maybe stability, and normal is what we need right now," Alfie said softly, "Keep your mind where it's supposed to be instead of where it wants to go. Then later, if we still need to, we talk about that?"

Alfie caught something of a begrudging look in her eyes, but Claire nodded, turning to the boys who were busily scribbling on their childrens menus with the provided crayons, "Jaime, did you show Liam how we circle the stuff we want to order so we don't forget?"

Jaime flipped his paper menu over to the side that carried the food options, giving a long-winded explanation to the younger child, but Claire's attention remained on Melody and her tiny, anxious movements focused on some flaw on the corner of the table. Having settled her nerves enough that her hands were steady, Claire slid back her chair, made the excuse of having missed some grime, and started for the ladies room. She was a few feet behind Alfie, and walking away from him when she caught Melody's attention, and gave her an obvious finger crook, which had her out of her seat and dogging her heels before Alfie could turn around and notice that Claire had beckoned.

Inside the restroom, Claire had her phone in her hand before the door closed, and lifted Melody up to sit on the counter, "Okay, family secrets time. You know your principal at school?"

Melody nodded.

"Nobody is supposed to know this, but he is Pop-pop's cousin, and they were friends in college. That makes him, well, not exactly my uncle, but close. Anyway, it means I don't have to call the school to talk to him, no secretaries taking messages, or waiting for him to call back," she said, dialing, "And I also don't have to mind my manners, either."

"They said I was in trouble for yelling at a teacher... And they said I said a bad word."

"What was the word?"

"Sexual."

Claire shook her head, "They lied to you. Grown ups can lie, and they do it regularly, the problem is they expect you to believe it because you're a child, but that doesn't make them right... Gabe, hi, it's Claire Novak. Mind telling me what the hell is going on?"

Melody watched with interest as her mother went quiet, unable to make out the words coming through the phone as Claire listened carefully, giving the occasional nod.

"Okay. Okay, good. Make absolutely sure of that. Because if either one of my kids wind up in the same room as this woman again, I'm going to come down there with a sledgehammer, and not a single brick will be standing when I'm done... I don't care what my husband said, you're not talking to him, you're talking to me... Yeah, I know you'd rather be talking to him."

Melody felt certain as Claire turned to lean on the counter next to her that she heard the words 'slow your roll, mama bear,' but it was all she could make out.

"Sure. Slowing it right now. Totally calm. But if anybody puts their hands on one of my kids again, just know that they'll be taking their organs home wrapped in tinfoil."

This one, she heard, as Gabe was forced to enunciate over a chuckle, _"You sound just like your daughter!"_

"What's that supposed to mean?" Claire asked.

"Crap," Melody muttered.

"A kindergartner? ...Uh-huh. ...Well, if you think you have that part under control, that's fine, but when things settle down here, I'll speak to her about it... Yeah, just call him like he wants and give him the update. He doesn't need to know I called."

Melody braced herself for the possibility of a lecture as Claire ended her call, but it never came. Claire wiped the back of her hand across her brow, chalking up the sweat to the stuffiness of the small, enclosed space as she fussed with her phone for a moment, the shakiness returning to her hands as small waves of nausea seemed to be picking up a pace as they battered at her stomach, all the way up to the back of her throat. She'd been able to ignore them for a bit, assuming they were caused by stress, but they were growing steadily, and she seemed to have found the cause.

"Mom, are you okay? You're kind of wiggly."

"Yeah, I'm okay, just mad at that teacher" Claire answered, scrambling to shut off her phone screen and set it down on the counter before ducking into one of the stalls. She'd been in enough of a hurry, that she'd missed the button to turn off the screen.

Returning to the counter a moment later to rinse her mouth, Melody passed her the phone, "What does it mean, 'five days late?'"

"Uh... You know, we will probably talk about that very soon. I think you're going to have a lot of questions about it, but right now, let's just get through lunch."

"Okay," Melody said quietly.

Putting her phone away, Claire couldn't help but notice the way Melody smoothed her skirt down, not an action she was used to seeing, and yet she'd seen it several times since Melody had gotten out of the car.

"Listen, honey," Claire said, stooping to Melody's level, and setting a hand on her shoulder, "I know what happened at school today was scary, and hurtful, but I've always been really clear with you, right? I don't care if it's a teacher, or a police officer, or somebody you know, if anybody touches you or your clothes and you don't want them to do that, yell, scream, punch, kick, say every nasty thing you can think of, because they are rat bastards, and you deserve to have your space respected. And if anybody ever hurts you, I will shred them with my bare hands."

Melody nodded, stepping closer for a hug, which Claire quickly provided.

* * *

Mike stepped down off the school bus, his conversation with Hannah Rowland weighing heavily on his mind. 

The end of the school year was quickly approaching and the sun had been poaching the ground. Rain had been scarce for a few weeks, leading to a layer of dust that kicked up around his feet with each step. It made him wonder how much longer he'd be away from home, and whether the his ostracism would last into the summer.

He'd gotten used to the newer expectations placed upon him, and he was beginning to see changes in himself. He had been hassled by one of his teachers for knocking into him while trying to walk while digging through his backpack, and his respectful responses, now coming automatically, had seemed to get him out of the situation faster. He was sure he was putting on muscle, not yet enough to notice with his shirt on, but it was enough of a difference that he intended to keep up the routine Dean had set for him. 

The painted tarp flapped a bit as he passed it, as the plans to repaint the sign kept being pushed back.

His esteem was low, and without putting much thought into it, he made for the shop. His routine, the strict schedule he'd been put on, required him to go straight to the house and begin his homework, so that if he needed any help, everything else would be finished by the time Cas or Dean were available, but he'd been following the rules, even unspoken rules for long enough that he knew the worst he'd get for breaking this one would be maybe a few more chores or a longer workout.

He passed his mother's car, and the thought of staying another two and a half weeks led to a brief surfacing of concern he'd been denying for nearly the entire time since his father had told him to get into Cas' car. The concern was that perhaps his parents were so upset with him, or disappointed in themselves over his actions that he was no longer to live with them. Despite Dean's statement the first evening that made it seem less than permanent, he wasn't sure whether to trust him, or his gut feeling.

He opened the door, stepping inside quickly, and closing it softly. His eyes began to adjust right away, and he found the seat at the desk empty. Something about the empty chair drove home the pain he'd been feeling, having been so suddenly ripped away from his parents.

Mike looked up as he heard Margaret's voice in the hallway, speaking over her shoulder to someone in the garage as she returned to the front of the building. She was surprised to see him, but she was also concerned about the look of sorrow growing in his eyes, "Mike-?"

"I miss you and Dad, and-, I'm sorry I got in trouble at school. Pops took me to meet the high school principal, and she said if I quit slacking, they'll let me move up, and I really don't want to be kicked out from you guys," he paused as a hormonal torrent washed through him, bringing forth a flood of emotional gibberish, spilling his words in a manner only someone caught between childhood and adulthood seemed to be able to do, "I keep doing stupid crap, I don't even think about it, and I'm trying to stop. Really, I promise, I'm trying to stop. And I should have known better about the car, that was stupid. And, just, I can't throw my tests anymore, and they're going to make me skip grades and actually work for it, but I don't care, because I know you want me to stay in school, so I'm gonna do it. I'm gonna keep trying, and stop being an asshole, and I'm really sorry, Mom."

"You're not 'kicked out,' honey. We've been too easy on you, and it got to the point that it's not healthy. We just needed some help from somebody who's raised teenagers, and did it well, because it's getting bad, and we weren't adjusting to give you what you need from us," Margaret reassured him, wrapping him in a hug, "I don't know how long this is going to take to feel more solid, but it sounds like you're turning things around. And when that is stable, and it's not at risk of unraveling and going back to the way it was, then you'll be coming home. We miss you, too. But if things got much worse, you would have been taken away from us in a way we couldn't control, where we can't protect you, and that is exactly why we're doing this instead. We didn't want to just send you away."

"So," Mike tried his best not to sob, "I can come home later? When this is done?"

"Of course you can, Mike! But your safety is always going to come first, and you're the one who needs to take responsibility for that now. I can't watch you every minute, and I shouldn't have to."

Mike nodded, letting his head sink to her shoulder despite the awkward crook it put in his neck, "Okay... So the faster I'm not a piece of shit person, the faster I can come home?"

"You're not a piece of shit. You just need to get your act together. And it's going to take as long as it takes, honey. But I will be here when you're done, okay?"

"What about Dad?"

"He would tell you the exact same thing."

"I have to do my homework," he said quietly, backing up as he raised his head, his expression pained, "Will you tell him what I said?"

"Yeah, of course," she answered, rubbing the back of his shoulder, "Just keep working on it, keep following the rules, and when you come out of this a stronger, more responsible kid, it won't feel so hard anymore, okay?"

Nodding, Mike hurried for the door, worried that at any time he'd fall into outright blubbering and begging to go home immediately, but a weight was lifted from him, despite the tears as he finished his walk to the house. It wasn't a solid date of completion to aim for, but there was an end in sight. His parents had no desire to be rid of him, they'd simply lost their way at the same time he'd lost his, and hadn't been able to help him, the changes in him had occurred faster than they could anticipate. High school, and home, were both probabilities, rather than murky shapes in a possible future, and he had a solid routine and schedule to fall back on when the world outside became infinite and frightening in it's millions of unpredictable outcomes.

He would finish his day in the way he finished all his days. Homework. Help with dinner. Eat dinner. Chores. Shower. Reading. Bed. Four o'clock would come in the morning, and his day would begin again on a strong base of regimented behavior, precluding his need to think and plan basic tasks, as they would come to him at their appointed times. It was freeing. His mind could relax, and rest for a while. His body would be too tired to leave room for trouble-making, and life would continue without mischief.

* * *


	64. Chapter 64

* * *

With a quick call to the veterinary clinic, Ben arranged to stay home and look after Millie. The latest news had been an estimate that her grandmother would pass within hours, but the second call immediately after confirmed that she was gone before the end of the first.

It was still early, and she had hoped to open the bakery, at least, only for Ben to call Xander, who lived closer, and ask him to tape a note on the door instead.

Millie had cried for a short time, and then seemed to shut down, all expression drained from her as she sat quietly on the couch sideways, staring blankly through a window into the back yard. Ben approached her gently, his voice soft, "You want me to fix you something to eat?"

At first he wasn't certain she heard him, but the answer slowly surfaced, "No."

"Millie, you gotta get some calories. I'll make you a smoothie?" Ben offered, only to be met with a small shake of her head, "Okay... You know, we should see if your parents need any of the paperwork from the bakery or anything."

"Take them the keys."

"What?"

"Take them the keys, tell them Aubrey can have the damn thing. She's getting it anyway."

"You don't know that."

Millie chuckled, "That pattern has never failed to repeat itself. I know my family, none of them ever tell her 'no' about anything. But, you know what? Grandma made her choice. A stupid choice. She backed the wrong horse, and now, I don't know... They can all go fuck themselves."

Ben shrugged, "I don't think right now is the best time to make any decisions. Not with-"

"I'm free, Benji. She's not here anymore, I don't have to work three times as hard to get her approval and be the good kid. She's not here to watch blotch-face screw up everything she worked for, and I don't have to stand back and watch it burn, either. I won't do business with Aubrey, because she will screw me out of every dime she can get, so I'm going to protect myself instead."

Nodding, Ben shifted to sit next to her, "Okay... So you're not giving up, you're letting go?"

"I guess."

"Still, to decide that today, when everything's kind of-..."

"My head is completely clear. She's gone, and so is all... All the feeling I had for that place. Let that bitch take her stupid trophy, I've got what really matters."

He seemed concerned briefly as he searched her face, "You mean time with her, right?"

"Well, that, and... I mean, she was illiterate, and... I didn't start writing her recipes down until after Aubrey moved away, and I brought them home with me when I heard she was back, so, you know, she has no idea they were ever put on paper," Millie said quietly, stretching her legs out over Ben's lap.

"She won't remember the recipes, or hardly any of the techniques, since she hasn't been doing it every day. You picked her brain for years while Aubrey was ignoring her, now Aubrey wants the shop, and has no idea it's useless without you there... God, she's going to be so screwed."

"That's what she gets for making me mix the batter while she got to play with the damn sprinkles," Millie said tersely.

Ben chuckled, "How long do you think it's going to take you to start forgetting vital bits and pieces?"

"Just long enough to watch her land on her ass."

"Kind of vengeful, there, sweetie."

Millie shook her head, "The recipes kept changing, too, because we kept adjusting them. And changes I made make them mine, since Grandma never wrote them down. She can't inherit my brain, but if she wants, I'll give her a piece of my mind."

Ben patted her leg gently, "You won't have to."

* * *

"Where's Daddy?" Jaime asked from the back seat of the Chevelle.

"He's at home. We thought it would be fun if I left early today, so we can all sit down and have a little talk after school."

"Are we in trouble?" Melody asked.

"No."

"But I bet Jaime's in trouble, right? What did you do, Jaime?" Melody continued.

"Nobody's in trouble. Me and Daddy just want to talk to you both, and give you a chance to ask questions, that's all."

Still tired from her morning at the shop in town before collecting her children from school, Claire was looking rough as the small family gathered in the living room. The children seemed anxious, as organized family discussions were rarely called for, unless a new rule was being put into the works.

Alfie, having more time on his hands between work he was doing on new pieces, had looked up typical questions the children might ask, given their ages, and they'd agreed to try to answer questions as they arose, as directly as possible.

As with most situations in parenting, none of it went as planned.

"We are, uh, we're going to have a new baby in our family, so you're both getting a little brother or sister."

In the chaos afterward, Claire wasn't even sure which one of them had broken the news, but Jaime immediately took to jumping on the couch before them, and Melody, shaken by his jumping, looked further annoyed as she asked, "Again? Are you serious?"

"Yeah, we're serious," Claire reiterated, "I'm pregnant. In eight months, the new baby will be here."

"It's supposed to be nine months. They say it on T.V.," Melody attempted to correct her.

"I know. We wanted to wait and make sure."

"Why?"

"Um, because sometimes things don't work out. But it's pretty safe to say-"

"What do you mean they don't work out?" Melody asked as Jaime slowed his excitement to a cheerful crawl.

"Well, sometimes it starts, but then winds up not happening, but we're absolutely sure, okay? It's not a maybe thing anymore."

Melody's eyebrows went up, "Oh. Like mis-stair-age? Iris' mom did that, and the baby died."

The wail building in Jaime was apparent as his face twisted in horror, the promise of a tiny new brother or sister suddenly being put at risk, "Mommaaaa!"

Small arms were quickly around her throat as she scooped him up and started upstairs, shooting Alfie a look, "Handle that for me?"

"Yep," Alfie answered, watching her leave.

Turning back to his daughter, he attempted to keep his amusement under control as he watched her shake her head, "I can't believe you guys."

"What?" he asked.

"Well, you're already going to be old when I'm a grown up, but with another baby, you're gonna be really old before they get grown up. And then what happens? And me and Jaime will have to help you. This is crazy."

* * *

The quiet of the kitchen during dinner, which at first seemed to be related to his presence as a punishment, was giving way to more frequent conversations of a gruff and choppy nature, and Mike was taking part in the dialogue more readily, which amused Cas as he watched Mike, who seemed to be taking on more of Dean's traits, whether he meant to or not.

The damage to the car had been repaired, and Dean had, with careful concern for Mike's well being, allowed him to have some hand in it. He'd run new electrical cables and put the new turn signal assembly on.

"Your dad called today," Dean said quietly, seemingly paying more attention to his plate than his grandson, "Wanted to see how you were doing."

Mike nodded, still chewing, leaving a gap of silence before he answered, "He did?"

"Yeah. I told him you were sticking to the plan, following the rules, and about your idea for the sign, making it metal so it lasts longer. He said he saw your grades online, and, just..." Dean raised his hand, indicating a level going steadily upward, "He's impressed."

"He's been too busy to get in trouble," Cas suggested.

"Yeah, maybe. Anyway, he said he wants to think about making it one more week. If you can keep it together that long, stay on track, and just keep doing what you've been doing, then in a week, they'll come pick you up."

Mike was quiet as he seemed to take the coming week into consideration. After several moments, he broke the stillness, "I don't really get it."

"Get what?" Dean asked.

Mike shrugged, and gestured between Dean and Cas, "How come my parents didn't just, y'know, buckle down, or whatever, and-, I don't know, be mean about it for a while? Why did I need to come out here, away from them?"

"To shake you up," Dean answered simply. Receiving a look of confusion from Mike, he sat back in his seat and continued, "You never get anywhere new by staying where you are. And you were trying to figure out life apart from your parents, because that's just what guys your age do."

"Your father included," Cas added, "It was disconcerting to start, but it turned out well in the end."

"The problem is, sometimes parents are too lenient, because that's who they are as people. 'Takes a village,' right?" Dean said.

"And you're not a lenient person?" Mike guessed.

Dean shrugged, "I know what I'm doing, I know what I expect from people, and I'm not worried what they're going to think of me. But I was about your age when my dad kicked me out, I was homeless for a few weeks, and then I got a job offer at the same time I had a gun in my face, so, split second decision, I decided I didn't want any more run ins like that, I knew that was the way I was going to go if I didn't take that chance, so I started working for Bobby. Now, Bobby knew my dad, so he was able to get him drunk enough to sign something that let me change schools, and then I screwed that up a few months later, nearly beat a kid to death, Bobby had a hell of a time helping me get back on my feet after that. They didn't even want me in the alternative program. But when I got out of juvie, Bobby was waiting for me. Didn't matter what I did, he'd give me hell for it, but he was there for me every step of the way... Your parents never had it that bad, not as kids, anyway, and maybe that makes it harder for them to know exactly what they're trying to keep you away from."

"How did you get into the Army if you had a record?" Mike asked quickly, as though he'd been dying for the subject to come up.

"Good question," Dean replied, "The recruiters will do just about anything to get you in, so they told me to keep my mouth shut and if they never found out, I'd be fine. Nobody found it. One of the guys had seizures as a kid, they told him the same thing. If they hadn't come back on him a couple weeks in, they never would have known."

Cas felt Mike's eyes on him, and avoided looking up, but it did nothing to stall the boy, who was now fascinated, "Pops?"

"Hm?"

"What was stuff like for you, when you were my age?"

"My parents had been dead for three years, and I'd been sent off to boarding school. I never managed to get into quite enough trouble to be expelled, but... I did try," Cas replied, "I think I was a bit older when I nearly managed it, though."

The kitchen went silent as Cas trailed off, but Dean chuckled, "Don't leave him hanging, Cas."

Looking up, he found Dean to be correct. Mike was drinking in every word, "Wouldn't you rather hear things you could possibly use to embarrass your father?"

"No, I get dirt on him from Mom."

Cas nodded, "Right... Okay. This is never to be told to any of your school friends, I need to maintain order at work, you understand?"

Mike nodded eagerly as Dean rested his elbows on the table to listen.

"We had a teacher, one of the lead teachers for his group, He-, uh, Mr Kowalski, and he was Polish, and the school was roughly two miles from the rivers that make up a boarder between Germany and Poland, so as a prank, we thought we'd sneak over, as we'd done before - because we were young and stupid - and... Well, this is terrible, but we were going to sneak into a library and bring back a large amount of books written in Polish, hide the German books from his classroom in the dorms, and fill the shelves with whatever we could bring back... The, uh... The building we chose, as it turned out, was not a library... and it was Mr Kowalski who came and retrieved us later, from the authorities of a very small Polish village... As no one was hurt, and nothing was destroyed, they let him take us back to the school, with a warning that was too fast and too loud for me to translate, but it was very effective."

Dean turned to Mike, "That's the side of Europe Rick Steves is never gonna show off."

* * *

Several days following Millie's grandmother's death, Ben accompanied her to the visitation, only to wind up waiting in the lobby after quickly stopping into the room.

Millie was aware, of course, of the depth of her husband's childhood trauma, and was comfortable taking a seat without him as he left quietly.

He wasn't sure how long these things took, he only knew whatever pain he was in, Millie had to be feeling it far more sharply, and he would wait as long as she needed in order to be available to her when it was done.

Ben had found a spot to sit, and began to occupy his time with his phone. He looked up when he heard the door open, but before he could dismiss Aubrey from his attention, he noticed as she wiped her cheeks that the emotions of the day seemed less than sincere. He couldn't fault anyone, even her, for grieving in their own way, though, and silently reminded himself to give her the chance to prove his baseless assumptions wrong.

He was able to ignore her almost until the moment she sat down next to him, a little too close, a tear streak having worn a path in her makeup that left a smudged line of pink and purple hues visible.

"Aubrey... Sorry about your grandma," he said quietly.

" _Doctor_ Winchester... Euthanize anything small and furry lately?" she replied.

"Generally speaking, we try to keep them alive."

Aubrey scoffed, "I bet you do. You seem like the type that doesn't know when to stop."

"I don't think I get your meaning," Ben answered, his eyes still on the small screen in his hand.

Aubrey was quiet for long enough that the silence garnered his attention. Looking up, he found her staring at him directly, but before he could question her, she made a rather pointed look toward a large single-occupant restroom that was in a corner too remote to be anything but obvious before looking back to him, "I have some time to kill, you know. And I guarantee you she'll be in there the whole two hours, if you want to find out what you're missing."

Ben shook his head in mock sadness, and replied in the most soothing, yet condescending voice he could muster, "I'm sorry, Aubrey, but I gotta say, I'm perfectly okay being the only guy that never took a turn on the village bicycle."

Her eyes flashed fire, which all at once went out with a pout and genuine tears, "Shut the hell up, okay? How dare you! You don't know what it's like having a big ugly blob on your face all your life, and people staring at you constantly! You get over nobody liking you real fast when you're hideous!"

"Woah! Hey, calm down!" Ben said, putting a hand on her shoulder, but maintaining his distance, "The truth is, way back when, I thought it was cute. It's unique, it makes you stand out, I just thought it was part of who you are... Then, unfortunately, I got to know the real you, and I couldn't see that cute little heart on your face anymore, just a bitch who treated everybody like crap. I don't know if that helps any, just, I want you to know, your face isn't the reason."

"I hate you," she growled.

Ben nodded, "I'm okay with that, too. And I know you're in a lot of pain right now, so I'm gonna let this slide, but... Don't ever pull that again. I will tell her if you do."

Storming off to the very same restroom, Aubrey was still in something of a fit, although once the door closed, he thought her sobs seemed to take on a deeper, more pained sound. Ben attempted to put the approaching awkwardness out of his mind, and continued to wait patiently.

* * *

Sam had taken a rather long time tucking the children in, and passing by Emma's room in her usual evening rounds to keep the house in order, Jess could hear a quiet conversation about some small detail Emma hadn't thought to share with her.

At eleven, Emma had been insisting she was too old for anyone to read to her or tuck her in for some time, but occasionally, if she had had a rough day, getting a few moments peace with either of her parents, uninterrupted by her younger brothers seemed to ease her mind considerably.

Jess couldn't make out exact words, but it sounded as though a few of Emma's friends had had an argument, and expected her to take sides, despite her insistence that she wanted nothing to do with it. Sam's voice was a bit clearer as he counseled her to give both of them some space for the time being and hold her ground on her boundaries, calling her original plan of no involvement a wise choice.

On her last trip through the house, Jess met with Sam's back as he was quietly pulling Emma's for closed, and took the opportunity to encircle his waist with her arms, "You're really good at that."

"Closing doors?"

"No," she chuckled.

Making their way to their bedroom, Sam ran a hand through his hair, "Who knew the proper name for a hairstyle could be such a big deal?"

"It's hormones. Any perceived slight is the ultimate betrayal, and you can't laugh at it, either, because it's painful. It'll mellow out eventually."

As the door closed to the darkened house, Sam turned and wrapped her in his arms, "I think, maybe, we need a vacation. Just us. What do you think?"

"Well, the kids are old enough, yeah, but what would they be doing? If we have to fly them all the way out to my parents, and back again after, we might as well just have Dean watch them for a weekend, and make it a shorter trip."

"Nah, Dean's not really set up for that, and we're kind of far from the shop," he answered, "Actually, I was thinking of asking Ben and Millie, since they have two guest rooms."

Jess nodded silently, "I guess that makes sense, if they'd be up for that."

"Also, I was thinking about how we said we wanted them to get enough time with Ben that when we tell them, eventually, it's not a huge shock, and they haven't spent much time with him in a few years."

"Aside from that camping trip."

"Last summer. Emma wasn't there, and a year is a long time when they're this young," he replied.

Jess nodded, "Okay, and if they're busy?"

"I don't know... I just know after work today, I, um... I need a break."

"How bad was it?" Jess asked. 

Stretching out on the bed, Sam gave a grumbling groan, "You know I can't-"

"Yeah, I know. But I can tell. You only get like this when you're worried you can't save somebody... But you're not Superman, no matter what the boys think," she said, leaning over him to kiss him before heading to the bathroom. 

Sam shrugged, "I tried to be Daredevil, but the toxic waste truck missed me."

"I think it's good," she called through the open door, "Everything you suffered through with your dad, it wasn't for nothing. You've taken all of that and turned it around for good, and you've helped so many kids, so many families-"

"It was Dean," Sam cut her off.

Jess returned to the doorway, her toothbrush in hand, "What?"

"It was never about me... I watched my dad beat Dean up so many times, and I was too small to do anything about it. The one time I tried to get in the middle of things, I got knocked out cold, and Dean said if I tried it again, he'd kick my ass. At some point, I guess I got it in my head that's what the good guys do, they protect people, only I couldn't help him."

She leaned toward the sink and balanced her toothbrush on the edge of it, returning to the bed and straddled his hips as she stroked his hair back from his face, "So this is all coming out at once because...?"

"Because every time I fail, it's like watching him clean up his own blood off the floor all over again. And I'm still a helpless child who can't do anything to stop it," he answered quietly. 

"Does he know? That you feel that way? Maybe if you talked to him about it, it wouldn't drag you down so much."

"And maybe pigs will fly," he answered sarcastically, "No, we don't, um... We do better when we don't talk about Dad. But you already knew that."

Letting his hair slip from her fingers, she rested her hand on his shoulder, "I know can't get in the middle of this, because I wasn't there, but, if you told him about this, what do you think he'd say?"

"That it's not my fault. Because there's nothing else to say. But hearing it, even from him, isn't going to help."

"How do you know?" she asked, "And honestly, you don't sound very convinced."

Despite remaining silent, it seemed clear that Sam was avoiding something deeper, and Jess was able to read him like a book. 

"You know he'd say it, because he loves you, but you're scared he wouldn't mean it."

He turned his head to check the time on the alarm clock, but she was tired of his avoidance, and gently turned his face back to meet her eyes.

"Hey... Him being beaten was no more your fault than you seeing it happen was his fault, okay? He might have been the one getting hit, but it abused both of you. You both deserved better."

Sam nodded, working through his thoughts. When his voice came again, it was slow, as if reconsidering each word, "It's just not fair, because I had him, but he didn't have anybody."

"And now you're trying to be him, but to all the kids with screwed up families, because there's always going to be more. At some point, you're going to have to give yourself permission to stop."

"Will you forgive me if I don't?" Sam asked with a hint of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth, "If I just keep going until I keel over in the middle of a hearing, are we still okay?"

Playfully she gave a weak slap to his chest as she got up and resumed her evening routine, "Not until the twins are out of college. Give me that much!"

* * *

Ben could hear the commotion from inside before he knocked, but he'd underestimated the level of noise as the door swung open. Cocoa greeted him with a happy wag and a deep bark, and Melody was wearing her mother's look of deep irritation as in one of the armchairs, Jaime was sobbing on his father's lap between loud objections with few distinguishable words.

"Hey, Mel... What's going on?" Ben asked.

"My mom has a fetus and every time she goes to throw up Jaime thinks it died, and she's gonna puke it out."

Alfie gave Ben a small wave before going back to the firm back-patting that seemed to be the only thing that worked to settle Jaime at that point.

Stepping inside quietly, silently, if he was being honest, still taking in the information dump within the chaos he'd just received from his niece, Ben moved out of the way to let her close the door. He was about to speak to Alfie but Claire suddenly emerged from around the corner, coming from the downstairs bath looking a little green.

"Hey. So, congratulations on the fetus," Ben offered over a round of screaming, this time accompanied by thrashing as Jaime fought to climb down and get to his mother.

With a tired eyeroll, Claire turned to her daughter, as Melody started up the stairs, "Please just call it a baby. You're not making it any easier."

Jaime was quickly snuffling against her waist, his blubbering only slightly soothed by contact, "I don't like this!"

"I can tell," she answered, "But we've been over this, we talked about it, you can't throw up a baby. This is normal. You gotta stop, honey."

He gave a whine, choosing to ignore her reasoning.

"Um," Ben started, unsure what he might be able to add to the conversation, "Can I borrow your attic for a couple of large notebooks you never heard of or saw?"

Claire narrowed her eyes, "Is the entire thing of whatever this is, legal?"

"Completely."

"Knock yourself out. Oh, and we aren't announcing yet, just the kids are supposed to know."

Ben nodded, "Sure. Millie, though?"

"Yeah, she doesn't count."

"Cool," Ben answered with a nod, but spurred on by Jaime's miserable reaction, he dropped to a crouch and gave him a gentle prod in the shoulder, "Hey, buddy."

The boy's face was red and drenched, and snot clung to his upper lip, but he was still breathing hard, and didn't try to answer as Ben got his attention.

"Your mom's telling you the truth. Animals can't throw up babies, either, because bodies don't work that way. And this part is completely normal, she did the same thing with you and Melody, and you're both okay. It won't hurt the baby."

"See?" Claire asked, gesturing to him, "Would Uncle Ben lie about that? No. And he would know, right?"

Ben wasn't sure what reaction he expected, but Jaime let go of his mother long enough to get an arm around Ben's neck, smearing snot along his collar as he went.

* * *


	65. Chapter 65

* * *

"Grandpa?" Mike's voice came through the garage as he paced just outside the bay doors, until Dean, somewhere within, out of sight, responded, confirming his presence, "I don't have any homework today. I put my stuff away, and got the trash out and swept."

"Yeah, run down to Claire's, pick up your cousins, and take 'em to get the mail. Don't let Jaime off the gravel when you get close to the highway," he called.

Mike shifted from one foot to the other as he hesitated, "Uh, are you sure?"

"What?"

"Well, if he gets run over or something-"

"Mike, you can't-" he paused with a grunt as he wrestled whatever metal obstacle he was currently involved with, "-can't really understand authority unless you have experience being an authority. Now, you're helping out, you're fourteen, you can keep a couple of kids alive for a freakin' walk, and give their parents a few of minutes of silence. Get to it."

"Yeah, but how do I-"

"Figure it out," Dean ordered.

Mike was quickly getting used to being spoken to in a harsh manner, despite rarely ever having heard similar from his own parents, and no longer took it as roughly as he had at the beginning. Aware that Dean had set the task, and was no longer accepting questions or excuses, Mike started for the road, pondering the task before him.

He was fond of the younger children, certainly, but it had been a while since he'd spent much time with them. Adolescence had thrown it's monkey-wrench into the works of his life, and there was not one part of it that wasn't somehow awkward. He was too familiar with them as an older playmate to make an effective babysitter, but he wondered if perhaps that was to change as well.

He knocked softly, but was sure he hadn't been heard as Alfie's voice came through the closed door loudly, "Don't pull his hair!"

Melody's sharp yelp was followed closely by an accusation that her brother had struck her, and Mike cracked the door, "Hello?"

The door swung open the rest of the way as Cocoa nosed it open, forcing Mike to corral her inside while Alfie was in the middle of pulling his children apart, "Mike, hi."

"Um, Grandpa told me to come over and-"

"Yeah, hang on," Alfie said quickly, untangling Jaime's attempt at a choke-hold that Melody had defended against by attempting to crush him to the floor with her back, "Knock it off, or we're having every vegetable you hate for dinner every night for a month."

Rolling away from Jaime's reach, Melody scrambled to her feet and ran to the door, "Can we leave him here? He's too little, right?"

Alfie quickly hauled Jaime to his feet, addressing him sharply, "Do you want to go check the mail?"

The small boy nodded.

"You're gonna stop. So is she. And if you mess up, you won't get to do this again. Understand?"

"Yes."

Mike's concern was in no way diminished as both of the children started for the porch. Catching the look of a deer in headlights on Mike's face, Alfie shook his head in a reassuring manner, "It's really not as hard as it looks. It's just a constant thing. You'll be fine."

"Okay..."

"You have your phone?"

Mike shook his head, "Uh, no internet-"

"Right. Okay, um, if you're not back in a reasonable amount of time, I'll come check on you."

"'Kay. Thanks for that," Mike replied, pulling the door closed behind him.

* * *

Jack held Liam snugly to his shoulder, conflicted at his own actions over the past few weeks. No amount of reasoning ever seemed to help when it came down to the actual act of receiving shots, which had been put off for far too long, at the doctor's office, or eye drops as Liam seemed to need glasses, and through his apologies, he had had little other choice than to hold the wriggling child still through said treatments.

He'd been at it for such a short time, and yet he'd already come to the conclusion that parenting was not for the weak.

"When they come back in, they need to look in your eyes again, but they're all done with the drops, okay? No more of that today."

Liam whined against his shoulder, still unhappy, yet turning to him for safety and comfort that struck him as an intense contradiction.

"When we're all done here, we're still going to get ice cream."

"I want to go home."

It was a small word, but for Jack, it carried a heavy weight. Liam had little to say about his mother, and hadn't asked about her after a few days, leaving Jack to wonder.

The initial pediatrician visit had been difficult, and Jack had explained right off the bat that he had only just received care of the boy, and that he was trying to, as he stressed, 'get things on track,' and that Liam would be staying with him 'for as long as possible.' Liam's doctor had seemed alarmed at first, and worded her questions for him carefully, but while Liam was a bit small for his age, he was in reasonable health, and after a lengthy set of questions regarding what sort of home he'd be living in as he was now in Jack's care, she'd pulled him into the hall and told him rather directly that if he was attempting to take full custody, he'd have her support, so long as Liam was seen regularly, particularly at the first sign of illness for the first year due to a relatively unknown medical history.

Liam had shown some difficultly with her eyesight test, though, and had been referred for an exam with an optometrist who'd been happy to expedite his appointment with a quick call from the pediatrician.

"So, you want to have ice cream at home?" Jack asked to clarify, "Or ice cream, and then home?"

"Home now."

"Sorry, dude. We gotta stay put, and get your glasses ordered so you can see better. But as soon as that's done, we'll go."

"Home, then ice cream," Liam said quietly.

"Glasses. Then home, then ice cream. Got it. I'm putting it on my schedule."

"Phone games?"

"No, not right now. The phone has light, and I don't want to mess with those drops, I mean, what if we screw it up, and then they have to do them all over again? Better to just wait."

He was running himself ragged, trying to keep up with all the doctor's recommendations, the vitamins, limiting screen time, balancing his diet, the right amount of time outdoors, and being entirely responsible for a second person's entire schedule, right down to combing his hair, all of which somehow had to align with his own. It was overwhelming. Each nosebleed and stubbed toe worried him, every cartoon had him questioning what was age appropriate, and every foul word had him kicking himself.

Jack had spent several sleepless nights wondering if he was in over his head, if Kayla had been doing reasonably considering what he, himself, had to offer the incredibly easy-going kid, scared he was making a mistake, but when Liam had used the word 'home' to describe his steadily improving had-been bachelor pad, it had tugged at his heart. He'd make it work.

The door opened, letting a brighter light in from the hallway as the optometrist returned, a warm, fatherly type who wore what Jack considered a very dorky sweater over scrubs, "Okay, Mr Liam. We're going to get in the robot chair just one more time, and after I take a close, close peek at your eyes, you'll get to go pick out your frames! Do you know what color you're going to choose?"

"No?" Liam answered.

"Well, we have a bunch of different colors, so any color you like, we probably have it. We've got blue, and red, and gold, and we have different shapes, too. Some people," he took a seat on the rolling chair as Jack set Liam into the exam chair, staying close to hold his hand, as had become clearly required, "Well, some like rounder lenses, and some like more squarish ones. So finding the right ones for your face might take a little while. But don't worry, we'll make sure you look good. What's your favorite color?"

Liam turned his head to look up at Jack, confused, as if hoping that Jack might have an answer for him. Jack shrugged. Liam returned his shrug before turning his attention back to the doctor, "I don't know. Nobody asked me that before."

"Well, what color do you like best?" Jack asked.

"Green, maybe."

"That's a good one," Jack replied, trying to sound encouraging.

* * *

Keeping the smaller children focused for the short walk had been easy enough, but as the highway came into view, Mike began to worry that Jaime was going to bolt, despite having given no obvious indication of it. Unable to leave him to wait further away from the paved road, he put the younger boy on his back to give him some semblance of control, and continued to the mailboxes.

Melody quickly had the doors to each of the three boxes open, and began attempting to pass him envelopes and sale ads.

"Hang on! I have my hands full, and you're gonna mix them up," he gave a small grunt as he adjusted Jaime's weight before leaning forward, "Okay, give Jaime the ones for your house, because that's the small stack... Okay, good, now get the ones for the shop in one arm, and pick up the ones for Grandpa and Pop with the other hand and knock all the flaps shut."

"You mean I have to carry all of this?" Melody grumbled.

"You want to carry Jaime instead?"

"No."

Mike jerked his head to the gravel road, "Come on. I'll carry the box when I can put him down."

* * *

Cas was bent at the waist and nearly obstructed by one of the front desks, digging for forms to begin transfer paperwork for a student who was moving over the summer, having no other emergencies to handle. He could hear the voices nearby, at the doorway to the nurse's office, but he had been paying it no mind until he heard Mike's name mentioned. He paid little attention until the subject became clearer, and he'd gotten his confirmation of the subject of the gossip.

" _...in their house_ with them! He's been there for weeks."

"I don't think it's like that, his husband's the grandpa, right?"

"No. He calls them both 'grandpa,' but they aren't actually related to his parents. I don't know what they're doing, what the situation is, but it's creepy as hell..."

Cas straightened, set his jaw, and approached the sound of the discussion. His footsteps were noticed, and soon, guilty looks were exchanged between Paula, a surprise to him to say the least as she'd always seemed to side with him before, and the substituting nurse.

An awkward silence ensued as he waited, allowing them each to become uncomfortable before attempting to take control of the situation, "I'm not sure why this sort of speculation is going on, when I'm available to ask and set the record straight from the start... As far as family goes, I have three children, and only share genetics with one, I don't see why formalities outside of families should be so strict. And his parents have needed a little extra help, Dean and I are seeing that they get it, which, if I remember correctly, is what families do for each other. There's nothing suspicious or controversial about it, apart from current conjecture."

Paula, caught, but determined, squared her shoulders, and fought herself to meet his eyes, "I'm just not sure it's appropriate, having one of our eighth grade students staying with you and your husband out in that junk yard."

"You may have taken a couple of years off, Paula, but you were here when I had two eighth graders living with me, and you said nothing. You know Ben and Xander, I would hope, well enough that this wouldn't bother you now."

She shrugged, glancing helplessly at the nurse who was making her own retreat, "Cas, you... People talk... That's all I'm going to say."

He watched her as she started back to her desk, infuriated by her callous disregard. He started back to his office, but thinking better of it, he stopped in his tracks at the closest point to her desk, "Paula," he said, his voice hard, "If you thought there was any truth to this nonsense, and didn't report it, _that_ is what would upset me the most. Not bitchy gossip and slander, but ignoring possible abuse. So which is it? Because either way, your manner of handling it, either spreading a false rumor, or refusing to try to help him, you're wrong."

Paula let her head drop as Cas, carefully caging his rage, shut himself into his office.

* * *

Traipsing off the bus, making long strides for the house in the distance, as Mike passed the shop he noted the open door, only to stop his mother leaning out of it and waving him nearer. He tugged an earbud from one ear, which had been connected to an old Walkman Dean had dug up from the depths of storage along with a few cassette tapes, and let the cord dangle as he adjusted his vector.

Coming close, Margaret's attention was divided, and she continued to block the doorway as she spoke to him happily, "Run over and pack your stuff. You're going to come home today."

"Today? ...But, that's early, I thought-... Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," she reassured him, "Everything is fine, we just had a small snag, and it's better for you to come home today instead of when we planned. Just go pack your stuff. Pop-pop will be home in a bit, and I know he'll want to talk to you before we leave. But you're not in trouble, okay?"

Nodding, Mike resumed his course for the house, but with a goal other than homework and chores as Margaret closed the door softly, turning to Dean, who sat on the couch with his elbows on his knees and the lower half of his face in his hands, "Yep. That was subtle."

"Not important," Margaret replied, "How'd he sound on the phone? You think he's taking it okay?"

"Define 'okay?' I mean, how's the guy supposed to take it? And this effects Mike, it gets him out of here with no warning, shaking him up again before he gets home, almost no planning for it, and I know Xander had some snappy come-backs, but you can't tell me that's not hard to hear when assholes start talking."

Margaret shook her head sadly, "Any chance your brother could help? Maybe if you report the rumor to the district folks-"

"No, that just looks defensive. It'll die down. Not much the district can do about bullies, though... You okay with it if I show him how to throw a decent punch before he leaves?"

She faked a gasp, "Dean! Violence? Really? ...You should have been done with that part weeks ago! I mean, why is he even here? Have you been playing with cars the whole time, or what?"

"Okay," he answered with a chuckle as he got up from the couch.

"I mean, I send my son off to testosterone camp, I kind of expect him to come back butcher than when he left."

"That's not what this was about."

"All I know, is he can't learn to belch and smash beer cans with his head by hanging out at the salon with his dad. Punching should have been on that list. Unless you let Kevin make the list."

Dean scoffed, "Kevin might be a decent parent, but I don't think he aims for the whole 'dad' thing. Can't blame him for that, either... Mike's gonna be fine. As long as he's not doing that fake macho stuff to try to make up for whatever you want to call Kevin, you've got nothing to worry about."

She settled into her spot at the desk and resumed sorting through the completed work orders she'd been filing when she'd seen the bus on the highway through the window, "Still, I'm sure all this guy-time and boot camp stuff has helped. And I really appreciate it, Dad."

"Yeah, well, just try to keep it going at home. We'll see how this turns out."

* * *

"A car? Why does she need her own car? Yours is basically an extra when you're not here," Julie argued.

"I know you want to keep tabs on her, but she's responsible, and she's making her own spending money, along with pulling plenty of weight at home. If she can get herself to school, and stop at the store for you, that's less to worry about," Ivan reasoned.

Julie rolled her eyes, "Yeah, but then how do we know she's actually going where she says, or doing what she says she's doing? And not-... Not just being me at the same age."

Ivan raised his eyebrows, "She's not 'you at the same age.' And even if she was doing everything you were doing, she still wouldn't be you. Cyndi is a great kid, but if she's going to make any mistakes, she's going to make them with or without us, having a car is not going to change that."

"Like you'd know," Julie answered sharply.

"I seem to recall you not having a car, and being past your wild party days, and still moving in with an ex-con, so, I don't-"

Julie's bedroom door creaked open, catching both their attentions as Susie leaned on the frame, rubbing her eyes against the light, "It's after eleven, and you're still talking loud."

"Sorry, pumpkin," Ivan replied, getting up to close the door again, "It's important stuff, though, so we need to talk it out. We'll keep it down."

"If you both weren't always arguing, you'd be asleep right now," Susie mumbled, heading back to her room.

Ivan waited until the door down the hall closed before he shut it softly, and turned around to face Julie once again, "Look, I think we'd do better to have her driving. And a third car isn't a big deal."

"Until she starts sneaking out."

"She's not-... Okay, look, give me a minute," Ivan replied quietly, leaving the room.

Curious, Julie followed after him, only to watch him tap on Cyndi's door before cracking it slightly and, finding her asleep, went to her window, opened it, and stuck his head through, looking around.

"What are you doing?" Julie hissed from the doorway.

"Dad?" Cyndi's voice came from the jumble of pillows and wadded blanket at the head of the bed.

"Yeah, go back to sleep, I'm just checking something, I'll be out of here in a minute," he answered.

"Ivan, what the hell are you doing? Aside from acting like a crazy person?" Julie asked from just outside the door.

He straightened and closed the window, starting back to the door as Cyndi sat up groggily, looking at her parents with an average level of youthful disgust.

"Okay, there's no way she can get out the window without breaking a leg, so I'm gonna put a ladder on the side of the house. You won't have to worry about her sneaking out, because all the fun will be taken out of it. Better?" Ivan asked in a loud whisper.

Julie seemed about to tear into him, but from the bed, they both heard an indignant scoff, "Susie gets out that way more than I do."

Ivan turned around slowly, and his voice came low, "What?"

"Susie sneaks out through my window when she wants to go to Leah's house when she's grounded, because hers faces the street and somebody would see it. Hate to break it to you, but I don't need a ladder," Cyndi clarified.

"You sneak out?" Ivan asked.

"No. I just climbed out one time to see if I could, like if there was a fire. It was stupid kid stuff. But if I was going to, do you think I'd tell you? In advance, I mean, not like if something bad happened."

Raising the back of her relaxed hand to her mouth to cover a smirk, Julie gave a nod, "Back to sleep, sweetie. Goodnight."

Ivan was still considering Cyndi's revelation as Julie tugged him away by the elbow, closing the door behind them, and started back to her room.

"I can't believe you... They aren't perfect angels, you know that, but waking her up and talking about putting a ladder to make it easier-"

"And it wasn't who you thought. I told you, right from the start, Susie's the troublemaker. I can feel it. She acts normal and dresses normal, not low-key punk like Cyndi, but in the next year or two-"

"Ivan, I swear to god-"

"I'm just glad it worked out like this, Cyndi's been a great example for her, but it's gonna change-"

"Stop waking up the kids and go to bed," Julie insisted.

"Okay, just one last thing, and I'll shut up, okay?" Ivan replied as they came to a stop at her doorway, "If she has her own car, she might still do sketchy stuff, but she'd be able to leave at any time. If she's getting rides from other people to go do the same teenaged bullshit, and doesn't want us to know what she's up to, then she's forced to make a choice, and it's not a good one. Having a car isn't going to make it any easier for her to get up to shit, just easier to get herself home if she does."

Julie took a deep breath, and nodded, "Okay. Fine, she can have her own car. We'll tell her she has to work for it, but if it's not panning out, she can have it for Christmas."

"That's a long ways off."

"Only to children," she answered.

The silence between them quickly became awkward, and Julie seemed to be considering how else to end it.

Ivan shifted his weight slightly, fighting an urge to hold her, "I miss-... A lot, actually. Talking, spending time with you-"

"It's not a goddamn date," she whispered.

"It's not a fight, either. I think we had a good discussion tonight, and nobody mentioned filing papers this time... That's almost progress."

"I guess."

"You know, it'd make my night if I could get a kiss from you," Ivan said softly.

She glanced over her shoulder before stepping into her doorway, still keeping quiet, "I don't want to confuse the kids."

"I know," he replied, stepping closer as he moved out of the hallway, patiently waiting as she took her time in approaching him.

He found her minimal affection warm and inviting, but as he began to pull away, she tugged his shirt, keeping him close.

"Hm, Julie-?" the question in his voice was clear through the word he gasped, but her continued attention soon led to the door behind them closing.

* * *

"Not sleeping isn't going to fix anything."

Cas was almost startled to hear his voice in the darkness, having thought that Dean was asleep for some time. He tried not to acknowledge the statement, hoping Dean would give up on trying to get him to discuss it. They'd spoken about it over dinner, possibilities of misconstruing the the contexts, but it was when Dean had asked him how he was feeling about it that Cas shut down and wanted to drop it. He'd admitted he was angry, but felt that should have been good enough.

He felt the bed shift heavily as Dean turned over, slipping an arm around Cas' middle below the blanket and resting his chin on Cas' shoulder, "Don't do that thing where you don't talk, babe."

There was a sound of encroaching sleep in Dean's hushed and breathy voice, and Cas was aware that refusing to participate in his late night discussion entirely would cause him to become fully awake, which would lead to more encouragement to unload his feelings.

"I'm fine."

"Don't use that on me, that's my bit. And it's never fine."

"I don't know what you want to hear, Dean."

With a breath of effort, Dean lifted himself onto his elbow and kissed him softly before beginning to continue down his neck and chest, running a hand down Cas' torso, briefly stopping to thumb at one of his pierced nipples.

"What are you doing?" Cas asked, disinterested.

"I'm gonna suck you off. You need it."

"I don't."

"Yeah, you do. You're wound too tight. Let me at it, and you'll be asleep in no time."

Cas rolled his eyes, "I don't think I've ever had a blowjob boring enough to make me fall asleep, but if you want to try-"

"You know what I mean," Dean answered, sinking lower in relation to Cas' body.

Despite the feel of Dean's skin on his own, the touch of his lips, the warm-handed stroking of his thighs, and the wet depth of his husband's mouth, the efforts were less than effective. He felt it as Dean pulled away, running a slight touch of his fingers up Cas' stomach,"I don't think this is-"

"No thinking, Cas. You're thinking to much, just don't think about it."

Cas caught Dean's upper arm and pulled him closer to rest on his chest, "It's not going to happen tonight."

"Are you sure? Because you could do some shit to me if it'll get you going. I don't mind getting out of bed if you want to fuck the back of my throat, you know."

"Dean, any other day, the offer alone would make this easy, and I appreciate that you've tried, but-"

"Shh. It's fine. And I mean that, like, the real 'fine,' not the bullshit one. But if you wake up hard tomorrow, tag me in," Dean replied, rolling off his chest and settling into the pillows.

Cas lay quietly, listening to him breathe for a few minutes as he tried to clear not his mind, but his emotions well enough to sleep. Finding himself caught in a tangle of anger and pain, he shifted and curled against Dean, his temple against Dean's neck as Dean sleepily wrapped him in his arms.

* * *


	66. Chapter 66

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: Okay, this one was very hard. Extremely hard. I kept wavering, I took it seriously, and these two characters fit in my head so well I couldn't picture anyone else, including OCs pulling it off... Furthermore, 'she' strikes my as somebody who had a much wilder, crazier set of younger years and then calmed down, and no, I don't know what I was thinking.
> 
> Currently stuck on a sex scene, but I'm getting some plot after it written up as well, so when that particular levee breaks, I can add it all together and make some real progress.
> 
> Thanks for reading! FW)

* * *

** Two Months Later **

* * *

The house on the highway had been blustering with noise the entire week and a half since Sam and Jess had dropped off Emma and the twins. Running out of ways to keep his much younger cousins busy, and finding Jack and Alfie in similar situations with Liam and Jaime, respectively, a playdate had been arranged to let the boys wear each other out on the backyard playground.

Millie, who had been slowly building up a small catering business for select clientele, or, as she joked, people who'd bribe her, planned to use an experimental batch of a new cupcake recipe to teach Emma and Melody a few methods to decorate them.

The house had gone oddly silent when Millie left with Eric and Kent, intending to bring Melody back with her, as Ben was busily emailing with a friend and former classmate from veterinary school, discussing a cat with a mystery diagnosis.

Faintly, he was sure he heard a small noise coming from the other end of the house. He had assumed it to be some game on Emma's tablet, but roughly ten minutes later, upon going to the kitchen for a drink, he discovered that not only had the sound not been coming from an electronic device, it was a hushed sobbing from behind a closed door.

"Hey, Emma?" Ben called, moving to the stubby, short hallway that awkwardly held the doors to both of the guest rooms, the main bathroom, and the door to the garage, expecting to find her shut in the smaller bedroom. Instead, the sound stopped, and only the light at the bottom of the bathroom door gave away her location.

He found it strange that the crying had ceased so quickly, and backed out of the hallway a bit before a sniffle came from behind the door.

"Are you okay?"

"...Yes," came the reply.

Ben was by no means an expert on preteen girls, and had not met his adopted sister until she was already in her late teens, but he was sure he had heard fear in his young cousin's voice.

"Are you sure? You've been in there a while, haven't you?"

There was a long pause before her tear-filled voice answered, "When is Millie coming back?"

"Any minute, I think. Are you sure you're okay? You're not sick? ...If there's something wrong, you know, you can come out and talk about it."

"No, I just need Millie. I just don't want to..."

Ben's expression, while unseen even by himself in the empty hallway, went through several changes as a simple explanation became evident, "Oh... Okay, um, listen, Millie keeps some, uh, things, um, girl stuff, in there, under the sink. You know? In case a guest needs them."

His suspicions seemed proven by the sound of the cabinet door being pulled open. He hoped desperately that he wasn't rambling as much as he thought he was, but suddenly realizing the likelihood that had it ever occurred before, Jess would not have sent her unprepared, and that she was likely confused and frightened, he continued, if haltingly.

"Um, there is- there's two types, the, uh, big, kind of, square one is probably going to be easiest. There's pieces that peel off and the sticky side sticks, like, into to your clothes. They kind of show that on commercials, if you ever noticed that. It works like a big bandaid... And, just, of course Millie can come talk to you when she gets back, but there's nothing to be embarrassed about, okay? I mean, every girl goes through it, it's just what happens. It's a normal body thing, just like, uh, hiccoughs, or um, deodorant. It's normal growing up stuff, you'll be okay... I think I hear the car, though, so I'm gonna go check. No hurry."

Moving away from the door, Ben was certain he heard plastic peeling, and the more he thought about it, the less comfortable he was getting. He thought he'd get to the front door, but Melody suddenly bounded past him as Millie stepped inside, closing the door just as he reached her.

Catching site of Ben's face, Millie seemed concerned immediately, "What's wrong?"

"Um. Emergency. Girl stuff emergency," he answered, as Melody, already in the kitchen, seemed to be making quite a bit of noise.

"Girl stuff?"

"Bathroom stuff. Yeah."

"Oh... So, is she...?"

Ben shrugged, "I have no idea what's going on in there. But I'm going to get Mel out of the frosting, and Emma just wants you, she won't talk to me."

"Yeah, I'll trade you," Millie replied, setting her purse down and hurrying off as Ben went for the kitchen, only to stop half way to the bathroom, "Wait... What do I tell her?"

Ben shook his head and dropped his voice, hoping Melody wouldn't overhear, "Hell if I know! I don't have that equipment!"

"Well, what did you tell her?"

"The square things under the sink are a giant bandaid? Sticky side down?"

Millie nodded, "Okay, yeah. Good start."

* * *

Due for an oil change, and some time with Claire, Cas stopped into the diner to place a to-go order, hoping to surprise her at work. It was still early, the diner not yet bustling with the usual lunch rush, and he took a seat at the long counter by the register to wait for an employee to come take his order.

He'd been at the school all morning, approving a few new developments around the building, helping the three new teachers to settle in, lugging boxes from one store room to another, and had managed to escape, leaving the rest to tomorrow, or at least until the afternoon.

Certain he'd be spotted the moment one of the waitresses left the kitchen, yet being in no particular hurry, he pulled his phone from his pocket to check whether he had any meetings that afternoon that he couldn't put off.

"Cas?"

He knew the voice, but he couldn't place it. The familiarity struck his memories in a harsh manner, demanding to rise to the surface, despite the soft question of the voice. Memories didn't stir as well as emotions, and rather than a name or a face coming to mind, he instead felt warmth, belonging, and a tug deep within that carried promises of a boneless relaxation after sex. Turning around, matching a face to the sound, he knew the man immediately.

"Chuck? When did you...?" looking past the smiling man, he noticed Ellen sitting in a booth, "What are you doing here? I thought-"

"We're passing through. Trevor came out ahead of time to stay with his grandma while we got the house packed up. I'm finally retired!" Chuck replied, beaming.

"That explains the hair," Cas answered, causing Chuck to absentmindedly run a hand through his slowly lengthening curls.

"Yeah, well, I'll get used to it. How have you been? Are you still working at the school? No, you know what, come join us, we were actually trying to look you up, but then, here you are!"

Easily plied, Cas was led quickly to the table.

"Oh, my god," Ellen said, looking Cas over as he sat down across from them both, her accent as subtle as ever, "What are those rings? Honey, did you get married?"

"I did," he replied with a smile, "His name is Dean. And, oddly enough, our three children and a few extras are older than Trevor, and we have three grandchildren, and one more on the way."

"No!" Ellen gasped, "You're full of shit. Really? Okay, you gotta explain that one to me, and I want to see pictures!"

Cas chuckled as he opened the gallery on his phone, "It's all true."

* * *

Dragging himself away from the shop, after an argument between Lucas and Javier that became heated enough he'd had to send Javier out to pull parts, Dean entered the diner to pick up the large order for the shop, hoping that more stable blood sugar and full stomachs would lead to cooler heads, provided they didn't kill each other before he got back. He felt confident that Blake would have the presence of mind to knock Lucas over and sit on him allowing Javier to escape, should it come to blows, but it still nagged at him.

One of the waitresses came through, rang up the purchase, and cashed him out. Picking up the large bag and drink carrier, Dean turned to leave, but it was at that point he overheard a conversation a few tables away.

"He's got your eyes! By why didn't they just call him Castiel? Use the whole thing, if they wanted to name him after you?"

Dean stopped in his tracks and spotted his husband, despite the fact that his back was turned, "Cas?"

Cas turned in his seat, and so began as a system of dominoes, a quick falter on Cas' expression leading to one of confusion on Dean's. The confusion led Cas to wave him closer and begin to explain, "Dean, these are friends of mine, Chuck and Ellen. They moved away several years ago, when Chuck's unit was transferred."

Dean nodded uselessly as Cas patted the seat next to him, "Right, yeah. You've uh, you've mentioned 'em. Hi, I'm Dean."

"They were hoping to catch up, they were going to try to track me down," Cas explained as Dean sat down with a bewildered look, "But they spotted me when I walked in. I was going to try to surprise Claire, but considering-"

"Yeah, no," Dean contributed to Cas' excuse, "Old friends, probably lost contact along the way, right? You gotta catch up with your buddies, that's just-... Yeah, I get it."

As Dean spoke, Chuck met Cas' eyes, which told Cas he was not the only one noticing a sudden jump in Dean's anxious behavior.

"So, Dean, um, a very late congratulations. Cas was just telling us all about the kids and the grandkids, that is-... Well, he always seemed like the family type. It's good to see him so happy," Chuck said softly with a smile.

"Yeah," Dean replied absentmindedly, "Yeah, he seems pretty happy most days."

Ellen smiled widely and raised her eyebrows, "So does Claire know yet, if it's a boy or a girl?"

"She's not that far along yet. I don't think she has an opinion on it, either, although Melody has been very hopeful it'll be a boy," Cas answered.

"Really? I would have thought she'd want a sister?"

"She likes to have her own space. I don't think she realizes that with two brothers, her parents would probably put the boys in the larger bedroom," Cas replied with amusement.

Dean forced a chuckle, "Yeah, but she'd still have her own room. That'd keep her from showing up at our place again."

"Cas told us you moved in over at the old Singer place," Chuck said, gesturing to Cas, "I didn't realize there was a house over there. I guess the commute isn't too bad, huh?"

"Uh, no, not too bad. Sure saves gas. But, actually, I've got to get back to it, since I've got a couple of employees ready to tear each other apart, so, uh..." Dean got to his feet awkwardly, giving a curt nod to Ellen and Chuck before turning to Cas, "Nice to meet you guys. And I guess I'll see you at home."

Uncertain of exactly what Dean's underlying emotions were, or whether the excuse was valid, Cas turned slightly, confused, "Dean, if...?"

By the time he'd said it, Dean was already half way to the door with Cas staring after him, but before he could work out whether to follow after him and attempt once more to read his awkward jumble of a reaction, Ellen was already out of her seat.

She patted Cas on the shoulder as she passed his side of the table, "No, no, it's okay. I think I got this."

Cas was sure of very little at that point, aside from the fact that Dean was uncomfortable, and, he now understood, he should have followed him to the parking lot, if only as reassurance that he was his primary concern. But at the same time, Ellen was a deeply comforting person, and he trusted her. Emotions were her stomping ground, and she had a way of shaping them to her liking, and sorting them out and making them understandable in others.

The glass door behind Dean swung closed after Ellen went through it, and found his quick trot had slowed to a sulk as he approached the tow truck at the back edge of the parking lot. "Dean," she called loudly as she came upon him from behind.

Dean stopped and turned to face her, trying to appear sociable but hurried, but his eyes gave him away.

"I just want you to know, when he came in here a little while ago, he had no idea we were here. This was never planned, and he sure didn't have time to tell you, okay? I can tell from your face you know all of it, but honey, you've got nothing to worry about. I've got a lot of love for that man, we both do, but the last thing either of us would want is to shake anything between you and him. He's yours, and we respect that," she said, watching as Dean's face continued to betray him. It was with a caring hand she rubbed at his upper arm, hoping to extend some comfort, "Listen, if things calm down, if you two are okay with it, you should both come meet us at the bar later, around eight. But no pressure."

Dean nodded, "Yeah, uh, maybe."

"Just think it through. Don't do it if it's gonna stir the pot, honey," she guided him closer by his shoulder, "C'mere."

Dean didn't give it much thought, but after she'd already embraced him in an admittedly very comforting hug, he did feel odd, yet settled.

"Listen, if you get a minute," Dean said as she let go, "Can you remind him he's got about ten minutes left before Claire usually clocks out for lunch? If he'll shoot her a text to see what she wants, she'll wait on him."

"Yeah, I can do that for you. Try and take it easy, okay? He's nuts about you, I can tell."

* * *

With Susie at a friend's house, and Eli tearing around the back yard, the otherwise stillness of the house had been a buzz of constant sound as Cyndi, who didn't seem to need air, puttered around with her phone in her ear, happily telling any of her friends who'd pick up their phones that she'd received her solid plastic license in the mail, making her status as a legal driver official.

Ivan sat on the couch with his arm around Julie's shoulders listening to the flowing stream of youthful expressions and overly excited discussions over her newfound freedom.

"Think maybe she's happy about this?" Julie asked with a hint of a smirk as Cyndi circled through the kitchen as she seemed to have a goal of pacing every possible inch of the house.

"I dunno, she's so hard to read," Ivan replied, gentle sarcasm creeping into his voice and making Julie chuckle.

"When do you want to tell her about the car plan?" Julie asked quietly.

Ivan shrugged, "You could hold onto it and keep it quiet until the next time she blows up at you."

"So, today or tomorrow. Okay."

"It's not that bad, she's not that angry all the time," Ivan chided.

Julie shrugged and continued to listen to the path Cyndi took through the house, as the sound of her voice formed a path through the various areas as she went.

"So... It's a short one this time... How are you feeling about it?" Ivan asked, referring to a set of shows he had coming up in a relatively small area.

"It's only, like, six weeks, right?" she asked.

"More like eight or nine."

Julie tapped her nails on the case of her phone where it sat on her thigh, "I know things have been looking up, but I'm still on the fence. I'm not trying to be indecisive, I know it looks that way, but I don't want to lie to you, or to myself with this, that I just... I'm not sure. Some days everything is great, and sometimes I don't know why we're together in the first place, or if you were just a way out."

"Right, Ivan answered, less than pleased.

"Don't get angry," Julie whispered.

"No, I'm not. I know, you feel what you feel, you can't do shit about it. But in the meantime, where the hell am I supposed to be? How do I hold up my end of things while you figure this out for you? It's hard."

"If I could make this any easier, I would," Julie said quietly.

Ivan let his head tip back as he tried to place Cyndi's distance, and found her to be in the far end of the upstairs, "Julie, I don't love you any less than the day we got married. Really. And I don't know what's different now, but if you're not happy, then something's gotta change, just, are you looking at everything? Not just blaming me for-... She put her shoes on."

"Yeah? Maybe she'll take the phone outside."

"Or she really wants us to redo the floors," Ivan mused, his attitude suddenly changing as Cyndi appeared at the top of the stairs on her way down in an outfit he was certain would not pass her school's dress code.

With the chime of the doorbell, he was on his feet, and beat her to the door, sure he knew what was going on, only to find a boy roughly Cyndi's age on the front walk.

"Um, hi? I'm here for Cyndi?"

"Well, I'd hope so, because if you were here for anybody else, it'd be no."

Uncertain, the boy attempted a chuckle as Ivan heard Julie speaking to Cyndi inside.

"What's your name?" Ivan asked, leaning on the door frame and crossing his arms.

"Um, it's Shane."

Ivan nodded, "Nice shirt."

"Oh," the boy looked down at the worn and slightly battered shirt he recognized easily that bore the same double helix symbol and words in the same font Alfie had chosen several years before, "Yeah, uh, my brother gave it to me. I guess he got it at a concert or something."

"Yeah, no, I know. I know the guy that made the design. Some art thing with that old rock guy, right?" Ivan asked, attempting to hide a grin by mentally reminding himself the boy was picking up his sixteen year old daughter, which worked well to sober him.

"I have no idea."

"No idea at all?"

The boy shook his head.

Ivan chuckled slightly, "And you have no idea who I am, either?"

"Uh..." the boy spoke slowly, certain he was being tested, "Her dad? The guy who's gonna kick my ass if she's not home on time? I mean, I already knew that part, mister, I just think she's cool... I'm not in a gang or anything, I don't get up to trouble."

"Good. Yeah. Yeah, she's very cool. Just, um, be nice to her, okay? After what happened to the last guy, just..."

The boy's eyes went wide, "The last guy?"

"Yeah, the last guy. I guess he wasn't much of a gentleman... I had no idea she knew how to break somebody's wrists simultaneously, but I bet he had trouble with his zipper until the casts came off, if you know what I mean. He won't be doing that again," Ivan said with a chuckle.

"Wow, that's... That's pretty bad ass," Shane replied with a healthy touch of anxiety.

"She is, yeah," Ivan said quietly as he heard footsteps behind him, and he straightened, reached for his back pocket, retrieving his wallet. As Cyndi tried to step past him to greet her date, he stopped her, passing her a fifty dollar bill, "You got your keys?"

"Yeah," Cyndi answered.

"And your makeup?"

"Dad! Oh my god, I have all my stuff. Can I go?"

"Just checking. Yeah, go. You two have a good time and stay safe," Ivan closed the door behind them before going back to the couch.

Julie had shifted over to lean heavily on the arm of the couch, and looked up at him, "Broke both wrists, couldn't manage his zipper, and pestered her about her 'makeup.' You're so consistent."

"Yeah, well, if I was traditional, drag him inside and sit here asking him what church he attends while cleaning a shotgun, they'd never take it seriously. Besides, at least I'm using a code word, and not checking her purse to make sure she's actually got them in there."

Julie chuckled as he sat down, "I guess you're right."

"What do we know about this kid, Shane? Aside from the fact that he wears shirts for groups and events he's never heard of?"

"I'm not worried," Julie answered, "Cyndi's good at choosing people. I mean, she picked you."

"That's different."

"Is it, really? She was so tiny, and she just up and told you it was happening, and now look where we are."

Ivan stretched a bit, taking up more of the free end of the couch, "Careful. That sounded an awful lot like admitting I'm not horrible."

"You aren't. I might be," Julie muttered.

"Don't do it," Ivan warned.

"It's completely possible that I'm the reason behind all of it, you can't ignore that."

Ivan shoved up off the couch, "I'm getting the guitar."

"Don't get the guitar!" Julie lunged forward, grabbing his wrist tightly, pulling him back toward her hard enough that he stumbled and sat down hard on the floor at her feet.

"God damn. You're playing rough today, huh?" Ivan asked.

"Sorry. I wasn't trying to knock you over, just, don't start that crap. Not today."

"But you smile when I do, which makes it worth it, and when I really get some momentum going," he paused, leaning on the couch on either side of her legs as he adjusted his weight, "I might come up with some new stuff I can sneak into something else, and pretend it has nothing to do with the shape of your butt. So, unless you want to ease up on all that crap, I have some work to do."

With a wave of emotion disrupting them, Julie pushed his hair back past his ear as she looked deeply into his eyes, "I never wanted to ruin this... I don't even know when it got to be hard, and I'm worried we're going to go back to it being horrible again."

Ivan heard the back door close and the rattle of plastic as Eli made his way inside carrying several toys with him, but ignored it, "It doesn't have to be like that. Not as long as you still love me."

A small, dirt-smeared face soon peeked at them over the back of the couch, looking for any trouble he could find.

"Can I help you, sir?" Ivan asked, not at all interested in getting up from the floor.

Eli shook his head, but spoke just as Ivan was turning his attention back to his wife, "What are you doing?"

"Being snuggley," Ivan replied, "It's a married thing. You'll understand when you're older."

Eli made a sound of disgust as he ran off once more, likely headed to his bedroom, which suited Ivan just fine, even as Julie was taken over by stifled laughter at their son's bluntness.

* * *

Alfie had just finished loading Jaime's plate with slices of yellow squash, or as he'd convinced him, 'cooked banana,' when Claire finally made her way to the table from the couch. Her morning sickness had become more manageable, but she was tired, and trying to stay on full time at the shop in town.

"How'd it go today?" she asked.

"It was good. The boys went absolutely crazy over here," Alfie answered.

"Yeah?" she turned to Melody, "And what about you? How was the cupcakes thing with Aunt Millie and Emma?"

"Good. I made a butterfly one and one that was supposed to be a horse," Melody answered, "Everything was okay, I guess, after they came out of the bathroom."

"The bathroom?" Claire asked quizzically.

"Yeah. Emma was crying. They wouldn't tell me, though, Aunt Millie said I had to talk to you, and if you wanted to know what was going on, you can call her. But it's a stupid secret, I mean, I could hear them through the door."

Alfie cleared his throat, trying to get Claire's attention, throwing his gaze toward Jaime, only to have Claire, once she caught on, give a small shake of her head.

"Well, we shouldn't listen in on people, obviously, but I think I can guess what's up. And if you have questions about what you heard, that's okay, and we can talk about all of it after dinner," Claire assured her.

"Okay," Melody seemed settled, but it only lasted long enough to lull her parents into thinking she was done speaking about it before she continued, "But if girls all get pyramids every month, then where do they keep them? And do they just throw them out? Or, what happens with that?"

Nodding, Claire set her glass down, having not been able to take a drink for fear of it coming out her nose, and Alfie was turning a strained shade of pink as he covered his mouth, trying not to laugh.

"How come boys don't get any pyramids?" Jaime whined, offended at his perceived unfairness of the situation.

"For the same reason they can't be mummies," Alfie muttered, still fighting to hold his composure as he directed Jaime to emulate him in carrying their plates and drinks to the coffee table in the living room, "C'mon, Jaime, we need to go grab some T.V. time, just us, okay? We'll let Mel and Mom sort out whatever's going on in here, give the ladies some space."

"Are you seriously wimping out over this?" Claire called as he followed Jaime from the room.

"Damn right, I am," Alfie mumbled, "I mean, how else is he going to learn to excuse himself like a gentleman?"

"Yep. You big tough guys, just run away with your tails tucked. I'm telling Kevin about this."

"I think he already knows about 'pyramids.' He's got a woman in his life," Alfie answered, settling in on the couch as Jaime reached for the remote.

* * *


	67. Chapter 67

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: Chugging right along... Maybe skip this bit of commentary if you enjoy watching things play out or hate spoilers...
> 
> *
> 
> *
> 
>  
> 
> Okay, there has been some speculation, and while even with a little bit of insight in this chapter, some direct, some subtle, but yes. Dean loves Cas. Cas loves Dean despite the fact that as a person, the world has pretty much chewed him up and spit him out, and he's a screwed up mess, much like the character in the show. But a few things to remind you of - Dean saw the pic Alfie was doing really early on, and immediately knew Cas would want it, and was willing to shell out whatever Alfie wanted to get it for him. Dean genuinely cared too much to stay when Cas was drunkenly making a move on him, despite how into it he really was, Dean asked Cas out, Dean planned to propose, and Dean has nightmares about his dad bashing Cas' face into the wall so frightening he wakes up and has to check that it's not real. It goes way past love, if you look deeper, past the cracked but still there shell of toxic masculinity, he's in absolute awe of Cas as a father, as a man, as an educated person, and part of that may be daddy-issues due to John being a piece of shit, as I've mentioned there's a slight age discrepancy. But Cas has held down relationships in spite of major sexual hang-ups, and emotional and verbal abuse, so while Dean may come off as emotionally unavailable, Cas appreciates his level, mostly logic-driven, and predictable moods. 
> 
>  
> 
> And as I know you'll notice it, Cas pretty much saying 'It's okay if you want to check on where I was,' is a holdover from somebody before Dean who'd scream and break stuff, not Dean's own behavior, he even said to Claire a few chapters back as he was kind of mocking her concern, he doesn't 'keep a tracking device on him and check his phone while he's sleeping.' Dean is kicking his own ass right now, and not all of it is warranted.
> 
>  
> 
> Now, on with the show... Oh, and, I guess, warning, sex-scene, or whatever, lol...)

* * *

Before leaving the diner, Cas had noticed Dean was quite stiff and rather cold as he'd departed, his goodbyes quick and cheap. He had hoped to smooth things over at home, but despite his best efforts, work had kept him late, and given the current standing, he was certain that didn't look good.

During his drive home, he tried to gauge Dean's potential reactions, although he had spotted it through the window that Ellen had managed to hug him briefly, which he doubted Dean would have accepted from many people, given her history with Cas, and the fact that Chuck was still in the diner, leaving the two of them unattended... Not that Ellen would have been much in the way of supervision.

It had never been intended to be a lasting relationship. Friends, yes, lovers, yes, but while he had cared for both of them deeply, and had considered moving closer at one point, he was their immediate outer circle to their own little world. It had worked for the duration of whatever layered relationship they'd shared, but none of them had expected his involvement to last. They were dear to him, but their lives were the type that simply passed through. He was grateful for the years he'd had with them, certainly, but he also knew, deep down, they were in love in a way where he would never completely fit, in a way he'd found, finally, in Dean...

Dean, who was sitting alone in a darkened house, waiting for him, with nothing to entertain his mind but worry.

He wondered if Dean would be angry. Anger, he could work with. He could twist it to his advantage easily, Dean was insecure enough that he wouldn't turn down the chance at a hate-fuck to feel Cas close once more, not after a threat to that connection, however exaggerated it might have been. It wouldn't take much to turn the tables, stop in the middle of it, and growl of his devotion in Dean's ear enough to make him lose himself in Cas' words.

On the other hand, if Dean was so upset with him that he wasn't home at all, there wouldn't be much for him to do.

The shop was closed when he pulled past it, and heading inside, the house carried all the joy of a churchyard in January. He'd barely closed the door when he spotted Dean, sitting silently on the stairs slightly hunched forward, elbows on his knees, and his hands clasped near his chin, almost as though he'd been praying. His back was toward Cas, and as such, he had to circle to the base of the stairs to get a look at Dean's face, sullen and dull as he kept his head low.

"I'm sorry I'm late... I was at the school, though," Cas said with a hint of insistence, "And considering the... the surprise you had today, I'll understand if you want to corroborate wi-"

"No," Dean said quietly, though his voice was dark and his eyes fixed on his boots, "I believe you."

Cas took a glance around through the dark living room and kitchen, then gestured to where Dean appeared to be doing nothing more than sulking on the stairs, although Cas was aware he was likely in a far deeper pain than he was letting on, and due to his statement, probably wrestling with demons long past. "Then what is this?" Cas asked gently, looking for insight.

Dean let his hands fall forward as he looked up, finally meeting Cas' eyes, his own bloodshot and red rimmed, "If you ever think, even for a minute, about running around on me, could you just tell me? Please? ...Because if there's something I'm doing wrong, something I'm not doing, you know, even for a minute, if I'm not enough-"

"Dean," Cas said, stepping closer as tears began to roll down Dean's cheeks, unlikely the first round of them, either.

"I swear to god, I'll fix it, okay? Whatever it is-"

"Dean," Cas said softly, moving to kneel between his knees, cupping his face with both hands, the familiar feel of Dean's stubble in his palms as he came closer, "It won't happen."

"There's just so much shit I can't say to you, Cas. All the stuff I'm supposed to say! I mean, how the hell am I supposed to... How would you ever believe it if I said I can't do this without you when, y'know," he choked slightly on an unbidden sob, "Clearly, I did the last time. And-and if I said how I feel, that I could never repla-..." he ended sharply with a gasp of sudden emotional pain that tore at Cas as well, which only served to drive home how harshly Dean had to have felt it as he'd attempted to explain.

Against Dean's cringe, Cas wrapped Dean in an embrace that shook them both as Dean's breath rattled. He spoke slowly, allowing Dean the time to take in his words and his meaning as he went, "You didn't replace her with me, any more than I replaced any of my exes with you. You're a unique, individual person, and I love you dearly, and I know you feel the same about me... I can see right through you, Dean, that's why you don't have to say these things out loud. I accept you, your survivor's guilt, all of it, and no, I don't feel as though you could simply replace me, either, I've never felt that way... And you also don't have to tell me who it was that cheated on you, or how awful it was, because clearly it still hurts you, even now."

Dean pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, which, for Cas, was plenty to confirm his long held suspicion.

"Dean," Cas said softly, touching his cheek, "Tell me you love me."

"I love you," Dean whispered hoarsely, as though fighting his own body to get the words out.

"That's all I need," Cas replied, "Dean, you're the one I want to spend the rest of my life with, and I would never do anything to jeopardize that."

"I'm sorry," Dean continued, shaking his head as though the motion would clear it, "I trust you, I swear, I just... I-"

"If you're up for a drive, I think we should go to the new restaurant near your brother's house for dinner. We haven't gotten out of the house for a while."

"But Ellen said-"

Cas shook his head, "I see no reason to meet them at the bar tonight. They have my email, they'll send me some family photos, and perhaps we'll get an occasional Christmas card. But you're hurting right now, and I'm not about to abandon you to any kind of pain, not when you need me."

"We should just go. I'm okay."

"I know you better than that," Cas replied, pulling him from his seat and turning him around by the shoulders, "Bedroom... I think we need to evaluate things."

"But you just said-" Dean was cut off as Cas' hands grabbed his ass firmly.

"It's important," Cas replied.

Shaking his head, Dean did as he was asked, and climbed the stairs to enter the bedroom, where Cas, whose hands had wandered but never fully left him, turned him around by the shoulders once more, and with delicate, practiced movements, stripped his t-shirt over his head.

Letting it fall, Cas returned his hands to Dean's body, this time to bare skin as he sought Dean's eyes with his own, "Think carefully, Dean... What part of me is yours?"

With his hands on Dean's bare shoulders, a thumb to Dean's throat, he could feel the number of heartbeats that passed as Dean raised a hand to Cas' chest, placing it over Cas' heart.

"Try again," Cas said softly, "It's a lot more than that."

"I don't know what you want me to say," Dean replied with a pitiful tone.

"Just try," Cas answered him.

Dean wet his lips with his tongue before bringing his hand to Cas' cheek and running his thumb over lips he'd kissed countless times.

"Try again."

"Your cock? ...Your ass? I don't know, Cas," Dean whined, showing obvious signs of mental and emotional exhaustion.

Cas shook his head, "Dean, think for a minute - what part of you is mine?"

The words were there in his eyes along with a look of realization, but as Cas had told him, he could read him like a book. 

"And so, what part of me is yours?"

"Every part," Dean answered shakily.

Cas touched his face softly once more, "Make me believe that you understand that."

Dean raised his hand to the back of Cas' where it lingered on his cheek, and turned his head, placing a kiss in Cas' palm. He took hold of Cas' collar, undoing buttons as he occasionally paused to dip a finger inside the fabric, focusing on Cas' skin, from his neck to his navel as Cas slipped free of his suit jacket.

Cas cooperated with Dean's movements as he pulled the shirt tails free, and dragged the shirt back over his shoulders, temporarily restraining him by the upper arms as Dean stepped closer, their bare chests meeting with friction as Dean's hands followed Cas' strong arms, slowly working the sleeves off of them as he watched his movements behind Cas' back by looking down over his shoulder.

His arms freed, he kept still, only moving them to Dean's ribs as Dean's hands slowly trailed up his back. Cas relaxed to his touch as Dean's cheek settled briefly against Cas' neck as they went, one coming all the way up to his hair before Dean prised himself away to take a step back, his fingers tracing Cas' shoulders and down his chest. Cas' hands gave a squeeze at Dean's waist as Dean's fingers caught on his piercings, his attention more prevalent on the newer one before he continued to Cas' waistband.

His breath slowed but heavy between his parted lips, he unfastened the button at the top of Cas' office slacks, only to stop suddenly, and meet his eyes, "Wait... What was the song?"

"Song?" Cas asked quickly.

"Springsteen. You said you had the poster, right? It was, uh... Born in the USA? With the red ballcap in the back pocket, right?"

"Dean, what are you-?"

"You said you spent a lot of time with that poster, and if you had the poster, then it only makes sense. What song were you stuck on?"

Cas looked away first, trying to hide a hint of embarrassment, "I don't..."

"You remember," Dean whispered, "Are you gonna share that with me?"

"It was a very long time ago," he answered, "I don't even know which ones-"

"I'm on Fire?" Dean asked, "Dancing in the Dark? You had to be keeping time with something to crank it to."

"Most of the songs were-... It was No Surrender."

"I don't think I know that one," Dean said quietly, "But I'm gonna listen to it tomorrow."

"Is my head the only thing you want to get inside of?" Cas asked, trying to spur him on.

Dean shook his head with a look in his eyes that told him Dean had other plans, and backed toward the bed, pulling Cas along with him. He wasn't expecting Dean to drag him in a half-failed lift onto the bed, and landed roughly on his back as Dean's legs settled on either side of him.

With a slow grind against him, Dean leaned down, slowly working his mouth up Cas' collarbones and throat to the tip of his chin before kissing him hungrily, desperately, stroking between his lips with his tongue, before catching at them with his teeth in a gentle nip. Cas matched his efforts easily, his mouth muffling Dean's moan.

Sitting up, pressure still right where he needed it, Dean began to work his boots off as his eyes took in the man below him, "Cas... I need to get you hard, what do you need?"

"Considering the break we took, this should be plenty," Cas replied as he set his hands on Dean's thighs, feeling the firm muscles below the worn-soft denim, "But before anything else crosses your mind, it is because of you, no one else."

Dean nodded, but his voice went quiet as he seemed to take the other possibility into consideration, "Yeah... Okay."

"I'm serious, Dean, this is entirely between the two of us. I need you to know."

He nodded again, this time appearing to accept it easier, and let his boots fall to the floor before he leaned in again, working his lips against the stubble on Cas' neck hands wander to the back of his jeans, "I can keep them on if it helps."

Cas grabbed his hips roughly and raised his own against Dean, breathing through a hidden groan, before shoving him roughly to the side and reaching for the drawer of the closer nightstand.

"I thought I was running the show, here?" Dean asked, wiping a bit of errant saliva from the corner of his lips.

Cas paused his rummaging, "Well, do you want them? Or do you want me to make you ask for them? Or beg?"

Dean shrugged one shoulder, "Yeah, just get them. And stand up, I need these off," he replied, tugging as Cas' waistband.

Standing, Cas paid no mind to Dean's hands working his zipper down past the point where it was starting to stick, and shifting the fabric low around his hips, moving him as he picked up two small items from the drawer and one of their basic stand-bys of lube. He held still as Dean steered his hips to face him, nuzzling against the bottom of his bare stomach as the clothing went lower, exposing him an inch at a time, planting intense kisses and mouthing his skin as he went. Cas' breathing deepened as he stood with his hands full as Dean continued, running his tongue over a sensitive spot in the crease of Cas' thigh on his hip before sucking the flesh into his mouth and shoving the offending barrier of clothing down much further than before. Finally, although Cas would have had no complaint had he continued, Dean angled his mouth and took him in without using his hands.

He let himself sway lightly with Dean's slow movements, and set one of his forearms to rest on Dean's shoulder as he stay still, focusing his attention on the feel of warm wet flesh encircling his erection. Rather than sliding forward and back, base to tip, Dean began to work him with his tongue, increasing pressure, then easing into a very strong suction before repeating it.

Cas' voice wavered slightly, "If you want these..."

Clumsily, and trying not to let Cas loose from his mouth, Dean rearranged his body to lay sideways on the edge of the bed, giving Cas better access to his jeans, provided he'd be able to reach.

Slowed significantly, Cas leaned to unfasten Dean's jeans and wrapped the latching strap around him, settling snugly behind his testicles and wrapping over the front of his base much like his favorite cockring. Pausing to appreciate a particularly intense wave of pleasure, Cas, his hands stilled where he left them, let his head drop, resting his forehead on Dean's stomach before prying his eyes open to look down to where Dean had managed to get his head to hang off the edge of the bed, still tugging him into his mouth greedily.

Forcing himself to focus, Cas quickly lubed the hollow sounding plug, took hold of Dean's shaft, spread the glans, and slowly eased it into his tip, feeling Dean whimper and clutch at his hips. Squirming and making himself gag as the plug slid into place, stopping easily at the end, Dean ejected him from his mouth and wormed away gasping.

"Dean? Are you all right?" Cas asked, concerned.

"Take 'em off," Dean all but yelped, struggling out of his jeans as he shook slightly.

Cas was quickly divested of what was left of his clothing before Dean dragged him onto the bed, pressing him down onto his back and trying to settle himself on Cas' still unlubed cock before falling forward onto his chest with a burst of humor, "That didn't work."

"No, usually it takes some care," Cas answered, already having poured some of the gel into his palm as Dean had set up for his attempt. His hand slicked himself quickly, but before Dean could try it again, his fingers, already close, began stroking over Dean's hole, spreading the slip, "Wait... Let me open you up."

Dean shivered at the feeling, and at the words Cas purred to him, and as he relaxed, Cas slid his fingers inside, feeling around within his body as Dean rocked his hips in a slow rhythm, just enjoying the motion, which slowed as Cas began to stretch him.

Removing his fingers, Cas guided Dean to sink down his shaft, taking him in all the way. Dean was soon moving above him as adjusted the placement of his legs and began sliding his unsoiled hand up Dean's arm to his shoulder. Despite his constant motion, Dean tilted his head toward Cas' approaching fingers in invitation, his parted lips widening slightly as he did, until Cas settled the tips of two fingers on Dean's tongue, feeling his mouth working at them with a similar rhythm as he drove himself back on Cas' cock. His nasal breath came in heated bursts over the back of Cas' knuckles, muffled sounds slipping through despite Dean's intense focus.

Cas looked over Dean's naked body from below, drinking in the sight of the form of him, muscles tensed, lost to the world, and fucking with a growing desperation, but in coming back to Dean's face, he gently removed his fingers from Dean's mouth, and struck him fast and hard across the cheek with the length of his fingers.

Not expecting it, Dean gave a high yelp of pain and pleasure as he fell forward, his efforts in speed nearly doubled as he claimed Cas' mouth with urgency. Anticipating Dean's usual request to follow, he raised his knees, grasping Dean's hips, and thrust into him deeply.

"Take it off me," Dean fussed weakly, his voice barely cooperating, "Cas... oh, god, that's good..."

To distract Dean, he shook his head as he shifted his hands to take hold of Dean between them, setting his little finger on the latch of the strap he wore, and brought his hand up to slap him again. In the same moment he struck Dean's cheek, he squeezed tightly and flicked at the catch, releasing the strap, and catching Dean by the back of his neck, bringing him down against him as Dean's release ripped through him. The spray ejected from the tiny opening of the hollow plug with a distance and pressure he couldn't otherwise achieve, something Dean always found incredibly satisfying.

Cas, who'd been avoiding most sexual activity since a particularly stressful week had caught up with him to remind him of his limits, needed only a few more thrusts before he spilled over within him.

Still coming down, Dean made an attempt to ease himself to the bed beside Cas, but with a noise of pain and surprise, he collapsed there.

Cas watched him curiously as Dean, still in his haze, ran his hand through Cas' sweat soaked hair. It was obvious that behind those green eyes, he wasn't quite functional yet as he muttered, "I need you with me... I've said that one, right?"

"Yes. And I believe every word of it," Cas answered.

"How about how we made it through raising three teenagers? I couldn't have done that without you."

"I believe that you believe it," he replied.

"Best dick I ever got, though, hands down," Dean smirked.

"I'll happily accept that title. And it must be true, you keep coming back for it," Cas said softly, trying not to laugh. He shrugged, "If you really wanted to, not just for me, I think it's still early enough if you want to go to the bar."

Dean licked his lips, "Sweetheart... I swear, I'm like ninety percent 'yes' on that, but... I think I fucked up when I tried to lift you, and... Well, I just kept going, and... Can you grab me the pills in the bathroom?"

Cas narrowed his eyes, "You knew you were hurt, and didn't stop?"

"It's seizing up, honey, I didn't plan this. I mean, throw me some pills and a wash cloth and you could still go. I'll be out of it anyway-"

"No."

"Cas-"

Cas got up quickly, stalking off to the bath to fetch the bottle of prescription pain killers that had a muscle relaxant in them, making certain they were entirely in Dean's hand rather than tossing them to the bed, knowing he'd thumb one or two dry by the time he returned with a glass of water.

"Wait, Cas," Dean called after him, to which he paused in the doorway and looked back, "I'm really sorry... And I meant it, earlier, about going. They seem great... I don't have to understand it to get to know your friends, right?"

Hesitantly, Cas nodded, "Try to stay still, I'll come back and put the TENS unit on you."

"What, the right way?" Dean asked as Cas headed for the stairs with a chuckle, ignoring him as Dean's voice became fainter, "Hell, I don't think we've used that thing correctly in years."

* * *

"You're not going to have anything left," Kevin's voice filled the kitchen as he attempted to explain for what felt like the millionth time, "It's not going to look the same, either, you have an ethnic color and thickness with some of your mom's texture, it won't work like his."

"It'll grow back!" Mike argued, "Please? C'mon, Dad, just try? You can make everything else work-"

"If you end up bald, I'm the one who has to handle your mother. And if Mom gets upset-"

"She won't!" Mike answered quickly, "And you're all about letting me express myself and looking how I want to look, and there's nothing wrong about it, right? If I end up bald, it was my idea."

Kevin rolled his eyes, "Fine. But if it doesn't sit right, it might take a damn crew cut to look even half way decent."

"That would work."

Kevin shook his head as he flipped the switch on the clippers and moved closer, pausing, and turning them off again, "You know, I could do this more like Pops', that would leave at least some-"

"Dad, please!"

"Fine, okay, fine," Kevin backed down quickly, "Just don't get mad at me if this doesn't turn out right."

Turning the clippers on once again, he began removing large clumps of Mike's hair, leaving the sides and back shorter than he'd ever worn it before, doing his best to force the cut to mimic Dean's preferred style.

"Just a reminder," Kevin continued as he worked, "There's a bunch of different cuts this short, you don't have to copy him exactly."

"Maybe next time... I just wanna see how it looks."

"Yeah, you'll see how it looks come picture day... Not to mention your first day when High School starts. Might be about half grown out by then if you don't like it."

Mike scoffed, "I know what I'm doing."

"You really don't. You still have that gel and paste I gave you?" Kevin asked, stopping to change the guide of the trimmer.

"Yeah?"

"Try the gel first. If that doesn't work, mix a little bit of both."

* * *

"From a junkyard?" Julie asked cynically.

"That's where your first car came from, if I remember right," Ivan replied.

"Yeah, when we were living in the trailer. We don't have to do things that way anymore," Julie replied over the dinner table before turning to Cyndi, "Honey, why do you want an old beat up car so bad?"

"Because the new ones are all the same. Everybody at school has these cheap cars that their parents expect them to run into the ground, or beaters. I want a classic car that actually looks good, like Claire's. But maybe older, like you see at car shows," Cyndi answered.

"So this is about standing out?" Julie clarified, "Couldn't you just get something basic and put a special paint job on it?"

Cyndi rolled her eyes, "That's completely not the point, Mom."

"Airbags. Old cars don't have airbags, sometimes they don't even have seat belts. There's safety ratings, and you know, that red car? Claire rolled it over. The windshield was just gone. I don't know what she was doing, or why she bothered to fix it, it was a pile of trash, okay? I'm not even sure it's the same car."

With an angered groan at her lack of progress, Cyndi turned to Ivan, her oversized earrings swinging below her long, tied-back and dyed hair, "Dad?"

"Solid steel frames, manual transmissions, and seat belts can be added. Also, she's right. It's going to stand out. Can't lose it in a parking lot... Also, owning a status symbol like that is pretty hands-on, as the dealerships won't touch it... And, I know what Claire was doing, and I very much doubt Cyndi would do the same thing," Ivan answered, reaching for his soda.

Julie narrowed her eyes, but Cyndi cut her off before she could speak, "Dad was a mechanic. You trust him, right? And Mr Winchester? He wouldn't sell Dad something that isn't safe?"

Julie shook her head, stifling her attitude as she felt it rising, "Right... Yeah, okay... Is there anything else you'd both like to completely overrule me on, while we're at it?"

"That's not overruled, Julie. I'm hearing you out. She's getting seat belts, like it or not, just, we can make it-" Ivan started, only to watch Julie stand up and carry her plate and glass to the kitchen before he was even done speaking. His face sank to an angry expression he did his best to keep from his children, which was clear from the three young faces before him as he left his fork on his plate and followed after Julie into the kitchen.

She stood at the sink, having left her plate and glass on the counter, leaning on her hands as he approached her from the side, and leaned his hip against the counter to face her.

"Kind of hard to have a discussion when you walk away," he ground out quietly to keep the children from hearing it, "So, go ahead. Tell me driver error isn't the biggest cause of crashes, tell me that cheap fiberglass is safer, and how I'm wrong, despite every bit of experience I have from working in the shop when you didn't last two weeks at the desk."

She refused to meet his eyes.

"You can't possibly think I'm not scared as hell of her getting into a crash. I want her safe, too. As safe as possible. And the minute she needs to run a deep-fryer or a grill, I'll send her your way. But don't start this crap with me and then walk out when I'm trying to explain my side!"

Julie let her head tilt to one side, easing a strained muscle in her neck from a very long day, "Get off my ass... I'm going to Singer tomorrow, without you, without Cyndi, and I'll ask my own damn questions to somebody who's been there a lot longer than you were."

"Do you trust me, or not?" Ivan demanded.

Julie silently reached to her side opposite him, picked up her plate, and dumped what was left of her dinner, aside from the fork, into the sink's disposal, carelessly left the plate and fork on top, and continued her pattern of avoidance by walking away.

Aimless, Ivan returned to the table and sat down, though his appetite was gone, "Mom's turning in for the night. Finish up."

Susie, precocious as ever, looked him straight in the eyes, "Do you guys even give a crap anymore about how that fighting-not-fighting shit makes _us_ feel?"

"Don't swear," Cyndi said firmly from across the table.

"You do," Susie retorted.

"I work, and I drive. You stuff your bra and pick your nose. Big difference."

"Stop!" Ivan cut in, "Your mother and I can have a little disagreement about something important without it being a big deal, okay? We love you, all three of you, and we are going to sort this out. Clearly she's got some safety concerns, we'll handle that, she'll handle it, just-... Finish your food, and get ready for bed. I'll think of something fun to do tomorrow while Mom's out talking to somebody about this car thing."

Eli took a large bite and began to gag and cough, only for Cyndi, sitting next to him, to quickly brace his chest with one hand, and thump firmly on his back with the other until the half chewed food landed in his lap.

"Do that one more time, and every meal you get for a week goes through the blender," Cyndi warned.

"Cyndi-" Ivan started, only to have Susie speak over him loudly.

"You can't talk to him like that, you're not his parent!"

"If they did, maybe I'd get a break!"

"Cyndi!" Ivan snapped, putting up a hand to quiet Susie, "Thank you, that's enough. And you're right. In fact, you should stay home tomorrow. Obviously you need a break. Susie, just stop, it's not up to you to fix things around here. Any of you, actually. You're kids. Be kids. Just quit fighting."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N2: Slight continuation, now that scene is done. Dean's wording has evolved from past episodes of the same fears. Hard to spot without picking it apart. Short version: DRR, focus on Lisa: "Oh, crap. How can I say I loved her if here you are? I feel like a liar." TBL, focus on himself: "Oh, crap. How can I give you my whole damn heart forever, if I'm starting to forget how I felt with her? Is it going to be the same with you? Is everything temporary? Is anything even real? I feel guilty." And now, S&U, focus on Cas: "Oh, crap. How can you trust my emotions toward you, when I had those emotions before, when I had a 'forever' before, and I have healed from that loss? I sound like a liar."
> 
> Hope that translates a little better. Cas gets it, even if Dean doesn't.)


	68. Chapter 68

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: You know you want to know. You know Cas wants to know. You might have figured out by now that this was planned from the very start, and that I've debated leaving it as subtext for a while, thinking maybe people would catch it... Well, here you go, we got a full-on reveal, because it fit. However, this is also a massive step in character growth, even at such a late stage.
> 
> Thanks for reading! And if you have questions about things that have already happened [I am rabidly anti-spoilers!] I am happy to attempt to explain myself, as sometimes things don't fit, or aren't apparent on the first reading, but who really has time to pick it apart? Anyway, take care of your fine selves! FW)

* * *

Dean had been moving slowly, attempting to work through the pain by getting himself to the kitchen after managing to get his jeans on. Cas' efforts the night before, to undo the damage Dean had done to himself had been strenuous, and nearly in vain, as nothing was noticeably making a difference other than the pills.

He heard a gentle tapping at the front door as he'd finally started the coffee pot, and leaning heavily as he went, he made to answer it, only to find Alfie on the porch with a stack of loosely managed drawing paper.

This made no sense to Dean, for some reason, that Alfie would appear out of nowhere without at least one of the children in tow, or on the porch, for that matter. The shop, perhaps, but he never worked there anymore, not unless they had a major backlog. The puzzlement had to have been obvious, as Alfie looked entirely too sympathetic.

"Hey, I, um, I was going through some of my old stuff, trying to clear some of it out, and I found these," Alfie said quietly, turning the stack of paper, "I thought you and Cas would probably want them."

Forcing himself to focus, Dean reached and clumsily took the first sketch in the stack, trying carefully to make the lines in varying shades form sense in his mind. It wasn't coming together.

"I just thought," Alfie continued, gesturing to the paper in Dean's hands, and choosing his words carefully, "Um, just, I've had my kids from the start. And I can get pictures of them all together when the baby's born, any time I want. You guys didn't get that with your kids. But this, well..."

The picture made sense now. Dean was sure what he was looking at a sofa, and closest was Claire, curled up in the corner of it with a throw pillow and a television remote, and to her left in the center of the page was Xander, relaxed, his scar still fresh, holding a large mixing bowl that presumably held a large amount of popcorn, as Ben, on his other side was reaching into it, his feet propped on the coffee table.

"I know it's not baby pictures, but... It was hard to get them all in one place since Claire moved out before Xander moved in. But movie night was pretty solid for a while, there. And I never really could pay attention to half the stuff they watched."

"Baby pictures," Dean mumbled, looking with interest to the rest of the stack, and finding the next drawing easier to place, "That's... Yeah. Yeah, we would love to have these. I'll show Cas when he wakes up, um-"

Looking past the porch, he saw a car pulling in, which quickly changed course and veered closer to the house. He didn't recognize it, and Alfie's reaction seemed to imply he didn't either, but it became clear as it pulled out of the way, parked, and the driver emerged.

"Hi, Julie," Alfie called, "Is something wrong with your car?"

"No," she responded, closing the door and heading for the porch steps, "I wasn't sure when the shop opens, but really, I came to get some car advice from Dean."

Alfie nodded and stepped aside, passing Dean the rest of the drawings as Julie came closer, but Dean only leaned on the door frame, and shook his head, "I don't know how much I can tell you, right now."

Julie paused on the top step, and considered Dean's state of half dressed and half awake, but noted something more than that, "Are you...? Are you drunk?"

Dean shook his head again, slurring, "Nope... Jus' high off my ass... D'jYou guys want coffee?"

Alfie caught sight of a look of concern on Julie's face and nodded quickly, "Uh, yeah, sounds good. How 'bout I help with that? You probably need to sit down."

Her look of concern eased a small amount as Alfie gently steered his father in law back inside and motioned for her to follow.

"So, I guess your back is bothering you again? What was it this time, vicodin?" Alfie asked loudly enough to get the message across to Julie as they entered the small house single-file.

"Shh!" Dean slurred, "Cas is'still sleepin', you let him sleep."

"Right, sorry," Alfie answered much more quietly as Julie closed the door softly behind them.

Dean settled himself gingerly in the large chair by the window, not intending to rise from it any time soon, as Alfie surreptitiously gestured to the couch for Julie before making for the kitchen. Julie took a seat, watching curiously as Dean absentmindedly began thumbing through the drawings he held, traces of emotion crossing his face unchecked as image after image met his eyes.

He'd barely reached the end of the stack when Alfie returned with a large mug of coffee for him, which Julie noticed right away was not very full, and asked how she took hers. He'd returned again to the kitchen as Julie looked around the room, which hadn't changed much since she'd seen in last.

"You know, the only other time I've been in your house was the day you fired me," she said quietly.

Dean shrugged one shoulder, nearly imperceptibly, "Y' sorted yerself out."

"I guess I did...My daughter's got her license, and Ivan wants to go along with this plan she has to get a classic car for her."

"'S a good plan," Dean replied, setting the drawing paper aside, "The newer ones aren't as sturdy. Too many computer parts, too, gotta ship them from everywhere. Insurance is lower, they hold up good."

"What about safety regulations?"

"Got 'em beat, there. New cars don't hold up in wrecks, they... like a beer can, they crush, older cars, they hold up, but no crumple zones to protect people inside."

"So she'd be safer in a new car?" Julie asked.

"Lots safer, yeah. Three years old or less for the best safety," Dean let his head tip back, "But..."

Julie was listening intently and startled as Alfie suddenly appeared and passed her a mug, quietly passing her to sit down with his own.

"...but that's over thiry, thiry-fi' miles an hour... Under that, you know, you keep her off the highway, pshhh... Just get her the one she wants. I mean, if you can't spoil your kids on a rock starsh' salary... Give her something to do, something to build on and mess with... Fuckin' teenagers... They don't stay kids for long enough, they grow up and run off with that guy," Dean gestured vaguely toward Alfie.

Alfie shifted slightly in his seat, uncomfortable with the awkward segue Dean seemed to be reaching, "How long ago did you take your pills?"

Dean shook his head, and seemed to be lost in his derailed train of thought as Julie turned to speak to Alfie quietly, "Is he lucid enough to trust any of that?"

"I can check, hang on... Dean? Hey, uh, what's better for a sprained ankle, hot or cold?"

Dean stared into his coffee mug as he motioned with his free hand, "Both. Hot for the first hour, then cold. Twenny minutes on, twenny minutes off. Keep it elevated, and stay off it fer three days."

Alfie nodded, "Yeah, all of that was right. Of course, you can call him back later on and double check."

Julie chuckled, "Seems like a really stupid thing to need to find out about, but she really wants an old car."

"Well, the wreck Claire had that almost killed her, she was in one that was about ten years old. If she'd been in the Chevelle, she probably would have had a very different outcome, but she's got a lot more driving experience now, and aside from living out here, she doesn't really leave town much, and everything is slow."

"What would you do, if it was Melody?" Julie asked.

"I'd get her the car she wanted, make sure it was as safe as possible, and if we lived in town, I'd ban her from taking it on the highway. It's just a glorified golf cart in town. Maybe watch the GPS on her phone to make sure she doesn't take it to the old airport," he answered, "Or you could do what Bobby Singer did, and get her into a car that looks souped up, with no power behind it."

"Who did he do that for?"

"Me. He learned the hard way by giving Dean that Impala. Right, Dean?" Alfie asked.

Dean chuckled deeply, trying not to move, "Hey, that car... That car was ghost white when my dad had it. It's all mine, now."

"You mean when Bobby had it?" Alfie asked.

Dean shook his head, "Nope... It was my real dad's. Bobby helped me make it right. I jus'... God, he's still not awake yet?"

The three in the living room were quiet as Alfie silently hoped they'd made enough noise for Cas to guess there were visitors, especially when he heard slow footsteps upstairs.

"I have a couple I was getting ready to list. One's a two-seater with a stick in the middle. Makes, um, dating a little more difficult," Dean suggested, "Alfie? You want to show her the cars?"

"Yeah, okay," Alfie answered, getting to his feet with his mug, "Would Claire be able to take questions on them? Or does she even know they exist?"

"She can figure it out and sign the papers today, tell Ivan get his ass out here and pick it up," Dean answered.

More footsteps echoed upstairs, and Alfie took the initiative in leading Julie back out the front door. Not long after it closed behind them, Dean turned his head to see Cas groggily starting downstairs, in a pair of old sweatpants and, to his mild amusement, one of Dean's tshirts.

Cas looked over his shoulder at the door, "I thought I heard Alfie. Did he drop in?"

"Brought us pictures of the kids... Our kids, not his kids," Dean said softly, "Fixed my coffee, too."

Cas nodded and stepped closer to the side of the chair, setting a hand on Dean's shoulder, "How are you feeling? Is it any better than last night?"

Dean gave a non-committal grumble before uttering something Cas didn't expect, his words slowed more than usual, "Du bist hier, also bin ich... glucklich?"

"What?"

"You say that in your sleep sometimes. I looked it up. I don't remember what it was, but I know it was sweet... Something like I'm happy 'cause you're here."

Cas nodded, "That's the gist of it, yes... But I meant, how is your back feeling?"

Dean shrugged, "I'm gonna stay in this chair for a while."

"That's probably for the best," Cas answered, picking up the drawings that Dean had set down, "These look to be from about the time Xander moved in."

"Yeah. He figured we didn't get the chance at baby pictures, so this was close enough... Not close enough, this was, um... Close as we get, I guess."

"They're a very good likeness. I'll have to remember to thank him for these later," Cas said quietly, setting them flat on the coffee table in front of the couch before turning around to make his way to the kitchen for a share of the coffee.

"It was Lisa."

Cas stopped in his tracks, giving him a questioning look as the words seemed unrelated to anything else.

"If you wanted to know, and didn't want to ask... I know, I fed Ben a line of bullshit that she went in for an early check-up, but we weren't trying for another baby," Dean said quietly, staring into space with a glazed look in his eyes, as though the words were pouring out of him while he was completely unaware, "She went in for an S.T.D. test because she wanted to try to make things right, and they figured they'd check everything else and save her another trip in... Ben can't know, Cas."

Cas nodded dumbly, uncertain how he ought to react, but Dean reached for his hand, the soft touch of his rough, weathered skin bringing him out of the sudden shock just as quickly as he'd entered it, "I would never tell Ben something like that. It would only hurt him."

"I thought that I would keep my mouth shut forever. That nobody would ever find out, just, y'know, let it go, let everybody keep thinking she was perfect. I thought I could do that for her... But you don't count, I think. Because I feel better already."

He squeezed Dean's hand, "I'll make you some breakfast. Stay put."

The smell of the coffee in the pot filled the kitchen as Cas entered, still slowed by sleep and trying to process his feelings. He hadn't expected Dean's sudden exposition, and wondered if it was due to the medication.

It made sense, of course. He'd assumed it had been someone prior to Dean's late wife, a passing romance or long fling, not someone he'd had nearly a decade long relationship with, not someone who'd made vows to be faithful to him for life. He'd also assumed the indiscretion had ended the relationship, which, clearly, it had not.

She'd cheated on him, and they had reconciled... Or Dean had felt forced to, as it became evident that she wasn't well. Adding a young child into the already tangled situation, he reasoned, as he began digging into the fridge, it was easy to see how helpless and trapped Dean may have felt, obligated and bound by honor to stay with her, and how the infidelity may never have been resolved where he was concerned, instead cast aside and ignored, left to fester in the back of his mind as he worked tirelessly to care for his child, and dying spouse.

It was deeply ingrained in Dean's nature to forgive, even if it normally followed an emotional outburst. Cas was well aware of it, there wasn't much Dean wouldn't eventually overlook. But taking his words from the night before into consideration, Cas was sure that however unresolved that damage from his past was, much like his father's abuse, on some level Dean blamed himself.

Setting a pan on the stove and eggs on the counter, Cas paused, hanging his head. December would bring their fifteenth wedding anniversary, and despite their many happy years together, it had taken Dean this long to share that wound with him.

Cas quickly returned to the living room, leaning over the arm chair, kissing Dean gently, and taking his now very low coffee from his hand to refill it.

* * *

Julie waited patiently in a remote area of the yard where Alfie had left her, heading home to relieve Claire of the children as she made her way over to discuss the available vehicles soon to be listed.

She had a very good understanding of how little she knew regarding cars, and the idea of Cyndi tearing around town, and even the county or state, on her own terrified her.

Having seen little of the yard past the wrecks and stacks, she had been expecting something more resembling a hollowed out pile of rust than the three cars before her, that although aged, all looked like they would start and drive without issue.

Switching her purse from one shoulder to the other, footsteps caught her attention. Turning to look over her shoulder, she spotted Claire, and reasoned she must have been tired, because she was in the process of working a scowl off her expression.

"Hi," Julie offered in a friendly, and somewhat apologetic manner, "Sorry to drag you out here like this, just-"

"Oh, no. It's no problem. I needed a break, Jaime's been clingy today. So, what do you want to know about the cars? Is she going to start dropping off Susie and Eli, that kind of thing? Grocery runs?"

"Uh, well, I hadn't though about it. Dean said he had a two-seater, but that wouldn't be good if she did start-... Well, actually... Hell, I don't know. I just know Ivan told me one thing, and Dean just told me another. I want her in something safe, and she wants something more-... Well, she's kind of punk."

"I have noticed that, yeah," Claire replied with a nod, "Okay, as nice as these are, not that you can see it from the outside, this isn't really what you want. C'mere..."

Julie followed after Claire around the side of a stack, and toward a far corner, closer to the shop. Past the paint shed, and down a gentle slope, a long carport style structure sat out of sight below a few trees at the edge of the property.

"If anything comes in with decent paint, or, not that it's ever happened, somebody wants to store a car here for more than a week, we stick it out here. This one came in about a year ago, it was running okay, we drained everything and stored it. I've messed with it a few times every now and again, thinking Mike would want it, but he likes the newer stuff, it's not his style at all," Claire explained.

"This might be the ugliest thing I've ever seen," Julie said quietly.

"Worse than a caveman in a dress?" Claire asked with a chuckle.

"Claire, I-"

"I'm picking on you, lighten up."

"Sorry, anyway... What exactly am I looking at?" Julie asked, gesturing to the car, which struck her as a shape similar to a blunt-nosed snake or a pug.

"That is a 1973 Olds Cutlass 442... In puke-green... It's loud, and obnoxious, and she'll love it. Four speed manual tranny, four barrel carburetor, and duel exhaust, that's the four-four-two part. And, best part, it's not a Ford."

"You don't like Fords?"

"I really don't. My dad's holds up okay, but I'm pretty sure it's because he's a stickler for the maintenance. This is one she can run into the ground."

Julie tilted her head, "The headlights look bug-eyed. It has seat belts, right?"

"Oh, yeah. The interior was redone right before we got it, a full sized spare, which we'll switch out for new, and a very sturdy jack, because we're picky about jacks around here. And even with those inside, you can still fit a body in the trunk," Claire mused, looking over the old car.

Julie looked to be hiding a hint of alarm as she glanced at Claire.

"That was a joke."

"But, it's safe, right? I mean, would you put your kids in it?"

"My kids? Depends on who's driving. But knowing what's under the hood, I'd take this one over those others, or anything from a used car dealership. I'd probably go with something new, or under five thousand miles over this one, but after that, it really depends on how they handle the car that counts in my book. One little warning, though, this is a muscle car. And once she gets used to the stick, she's going to find out it has a hell of a lot of power. Also, the car-guys at school are all going to want a turn, if it was Mel, I'd have a rule, nobody drives it but her, or a parent."

"That's a lot to think about," Julie replied, stepping close to the driver door and peeking through the window.

"Well, if it helps any, I can make it so that if Ivan shows up, this one is suddenly the only one we have available."

"Serious?"

"Yeah. I can put the guys on this one and have it ready this afternoon."

Julie straightened, "I know you sure as hell don't owe me any favors, but I just want you to know, since I think this is the first time we have ever actually talked in private, I'm really grateful."

Claire shook her head, "That's all in the past, remember?"

Julie shifted anxiously as she shook her head, embarrassed, and emotions clearly welling up within, "I, um... I was there, that night. When we tagged your car... So, the way I see it, I owe you at least half the cost of a paint job, and, I guess, whatever it took to get past that kind of thing being thrown in your face, and just... Maybe you let it go, maybe you're faking it to keep the peace, or whatever, but I don't know that I'm ever really going to forgive myself."

"We were teenagers. Teenagers do stupid shit all the time. We grew up. And we don't have to be besties to get along, so, y'know, it's been years. You can stop kicking yourself."

Julie's voice broke slightly as she spoke, "I'm the one who wrote 'murderer.'"

"What?" Claire asked, confused.

"I wrote 'murderer' on your car. And yes, it was stupid, and yes, I was a mess because Will died, but now, I don't see it that way. Cyndi's about as old as we were, and looking at it now, if someone did that to her, tagged her car and called her a murderer for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, or hated her for not dying too, I could never forgive them... I'm sorry to unload on you like that, I'm gonna go."

Claire wracked her mind, thinking back to the night the Chevelle had been graffiti'd, the words on the driver's side had been painfully obvious and hurtful, and she remembered sitting on the trunk with Alfie, counting the taunts hurled at them from the other side of the parking lot, but Julie's confession was bringing nothing to mind. Then she recalled that Alfie had sandblasted the passenger side before she'd ever seen it. She had assumed it had been more of the same, or similar, but Chaz's words to her on her fathers' wedding day certainly made it sound perfectly plausible, as the social circle had blamed her for the loss of their friend.

As Julie passed her, drying her eyes and heading quickly for her car, Claire spoke up sharply, "You're wrong."

Stopping a short distance behind Claire, Julie looked back, "Wrong?"

"That time when you wouldn't let Melody go with Kevin Tran until you heard from one of us that it was okay... You had no idea, but she was actually at a huge risk for being kidnapped that night, by the worst piece of shit you could possibly imagine. That was the stress that put me the emergency room. And I wasn't there to protect her, so you did... I owe you big time. We'll have the car ready, even if nobody comes for it. It's the least I can do."

"Thank you," Julie said quietly.

"Get bent," Claire grumbled, starting for the shop.

* * *

Kevin wandered out to the kitchen counter, having slept in after a late night chatting with Mike, and the resulting hair cut, only to find Margaret giving him a look of warning as he sat down beside her.

Mike was on the other of the kitchen from them, headphones on and his back turned. Margaret kept her voice low, "Why does my baby look like a full-grown man?"

"Uh... The haircut, probably. And the fact that he's taller than you, and he's probably going to be taller than me, if your dad's genes carried at all."

"Can you put it back?" she asked leadingly, bringing to the forefront that hair could only get shorter without a long wait.

Kevin shrugged to indicate his helplessness to do so as he shook his head, "At least it looks good on him, he had that part right."

"He's fourteen, he doesn't need to look like he's in college!" Margaret stressed quietly.

"You're in your thirties, you don't need to look like you're in high school!" he replied, matching her tone, "When you take him to school, they're gonna try to send you to class."

"Is that a short-joke? That better not be a short-joke."

Kevin smirked as he heard Mike quietly singing along with the cassette tape, and leaned closer, "I'll make it up to you. Let me trash your curls, and I'll fix 'em later. As soon as he runs off to his buddy's house."

"I'll trash you."

"Promise?"

Margaret rolled her eyes as she slipped from the barstool to the floor, taking her breakfast dishes to the sink as a loud sound burst through the room from the blender.

The toaster popped up, revealing a single formerly frozen waffle, which Mike quickly had settled in his teeth as he finished his task of filling a large travel cup with his smoothie. As Mike turned around, Kevin expected to see his son carrying off the cup, but instead he was taking the carafe of the blender to the sink.

Margaret turned to take it from him as she was still at the sink, "Here, I got that, sweetie. You can get going."

Mike, with the lid in one hand and the rest of the device in the other, muffled by the waffle, murmured something very close to "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, it's okay. Go, have fun."

Mike passed the blender components to her and went back to the counter for his smoothie, starting for the front door, barely catching it as Kevin gestured for him to remove his headphones.

"What?" Mike asked quickly, pulling one side from his ear.

"Stay out of trouble," Kevin said clearly, with a firmness Mike rarely required.

"Yes, sir," Mike answered, trotting off for the foyer.

Kevin shook his head tiredly as the door closed behind Mike, "All the non-conformity stuff around here, and he's turning into a square... Maybe this is his way of rebelling?"

"Honey, he can't rebel without something to rebel against. And as long as we love and accept him for who he is, he'll just be comfortable enough to show us what that means... And anyway, this seems to have worked a lot better than we thought. Dean said Mike needed to learn to expect more from himself, and it sure looks like it took. I'm not going to complain about good manners and more chores, not when he's doing it willingly."

"I went to go talk to him last night after you went to bed, check in and all that, spend some time with him, do you know what he was doing?"

"Do I want to know what he was doing?"

"Pushups. He was doing pushups on the floor. It's summer, and... You know, he kept going, too."

Margaret snorted through a choked laugh, "Oh, man, that's messed up. You open the door and he keeps going. With his pushups. That had to be awkward."

"He did, Mags. He finished his set, still talking to me, then he turned and stuck his feet under the side of the bed and started doing sit ups. When I was his age, just... I was getting as little exercise as possible."

"When I was his age, I was retiring from gymnastics. What's your point? He's always been a little bulkier than you, and if he doesn't keep up with calorie input, he'll get chubby."

"I'm not chubby."

"You're a lot less caucasian than he is. It's not some slight on you, Kev, but only about half the crap that works for you, body-maintenance-wise is going to work on him," she said softly, before resuming the mood she'd been in when he'd entered the room, "And did he seriously ask you to make his hair look exactly like Dean's?"

"No," Kevin scoffed, "Mike is his own man, he makes his own choices, and, well, he didn't ask me to dye it the same color, so it's not 'exactly.'"

"Goddamn it, Kevin..."

"Hey, you think that's hard to take? My son's primary model of all things masculine isn't me anymore, so-"

"Dean can't teach him to walk in heels, so you still have him on that."

Kevin's expression took on a hint of a pout, "That's supposed to help?"

"Well, think of it this way, right? My mom, as long as I've been aware of her existence, has been a frumpy-ass housewife. We'll assume for argument's sake that she's still like that. Hot mess, dumpy figure, mixed floral prints because she can't be bothered to dress well. Now, I'm a little girl, I have Barbies. Ultra slender, huge rack, constant makeup, all the best clothes. Now, look at who I turned out to be. I work outside the home, I speak my mind, and not just because it turns you on, and not a damn granny-floral, 'who shot the couch' outfit in sight. No huge rack, a lot less makeup, and I will never be blonde, but... It's not awful to have influences on multiple areas of the spectrum that is a gender. As long as those influences are overall positive, and don't bring each other down, those varying experiences lead to a better understanding of the self, and a freedom to express that self."

Kevin slowly pulled her into a snug embrace, "I absolutely adore it when you use big words so I can understand."

"I wonder what the brain version of skinny-fat is, because sometimes-"

"Intellectual disconnect resulting in an inability to 'human' correctly," he muttered close to her ear.

"I'm gonna shorten that to dorkwad."

* * *


	69. Chapter 69

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: I know this is a little boring, but I wanted to wrap up a couple loose ends before the next chapter.
> 
> Also, Dean being between loopy-land and tons of pain, and still keeping with his habit of telling one of his kids 'don't you talk to Cas like that,' well, maybe a bit of a throwback to Chapter 21, Ben and Xander's discussion after getting both vehicles stuck in a ditch at the abandoned airport, about degrees of punishment, which culminated in 'pissing off Pops and then having Dad step in is the worst it ever gets.' Clearly, the attitude has held over, despite years.
> 
> Thanks for reading! FW)

* * *

When Javier entered the shop, he'd almost expected the building to be locked, but Claire, having been told by her husband that one of her fathers was unwell, had proceeded to open the building in advance of working hours, sending Lucas a text to warn him of the situation without requiring he change his morning plans drastically. 

She was seated behind the desk, her feet atop the edge of it, and her phone in her hands, typing quickly with her thumbs, occasionally looking up to the computer where the screen sat focused on inventory.

"Hola, señora... What brings you in? You firing somebody?"

Claire shook her head, and quickly came to a stopping point in her typing, "I need the ugly Cutlass pulled from storage, and made drivable by this afternoon. Ivan's coming to take a look at it, his daughter wants an older car."

"Ivan, _the_ Ivan, you mean Lowery?"

"No, Ivan the Terrible," Claire spouted sarcastically, "He's finally upgrading from horses! Yes, Ivan Lowery."

"He's coming here? Why?"

"Probably because he trusts how we do things here. But here's the thing, that is the only car we have available, that's the one he's going to see. None of the others. Don't even tell him they exist, got it?"

"But if he don't like the car, then-"

"Then he can go get his little girl a brand new one. But she wants an old one. This is the one she can have."

Javier nodded, "Okay, but, why? Why can't he see the others?"

"Because I promised her mother. I was saving it for my nephew, he's not the type, and this is as good as it gets out here unless you continue to fine-tune it. So that's what she can have. Also, every seat belt needs to be completely functional. You spot anything wrong with it, anything that might cause a crash, and you put a hold on everything until it's fixed, it doesn't leave unless it's perfect."

"'Cause Lowery'll sue our ass?" Javier guessed.

"No, because she's a brand new driver, and I've watched her grow up, she babysits my kids, and she's my friend's child. I want her just as safe as my own children."

Javier clicked his tongue, "You must be real good friends with this girl's mama."

"I'm friends with Ivan. Leave her mama out of this," Claire groused.

"Wait..." Javier tilted to one side, getting a look at her face from a different angle as Claire gave a look of confusion at his behavior, "Did you have a thing? With Ivan? Did she steal him from you?"

"No. I never had a thing with Ivan. He was an absolute asshole when he started working here, and I stuck with it, treated him nicely until he came around, and then we were just close friends, less close after he left. He did a big project with Alfie a while back, that Helix stuff... And that bitch couldn't steal a cheese cube from a sample tray at Costco."

Javier's jaw dropped, "Okay, no. No, something, you're not saying everything that happened. You don't like her."

"None of your business," Claire replied sharply.

"I'll just wait and ask Lucas. Lucas tells me everything."

"Lucas wasn't here. Hell, Ivan wasn't even working here yet. There's nobody to get it out of."

Javier shrugged as he rapped his knuckles on the bottom of her boot, "Right. Except Dean. And your husband, he's been here longer than that. So, you gonna get your feet off the desk, and maybe tell me?"

"I have a swollen-ankle exception, jackass," Claire replied in a humored snarky tone, setting her hand on her belly, which, due to previous pregnancies had already begun to show, "And she got fired for getting too aggressive while hitting on Alfie, who I was dating at the time, and she was pretty clear that she was only doing it because she hated me, which is after she'd already been involved with my last boyfriend before he died... She settled down, though, changed a whole lot, and she and Alfie are okay now, but... Well, when somebody has kicked you when you're down one too many times, I don't know... I thought I forgave her a long time ago, but if she's not bringing me coffee and tater tots, I don't want to be in the same room with her."

"And nothing with Ivan in all that? Shit. Sounds like that girl wanted what you had, she was jealous."

"Maybe. I don't really care what she was feeling, I just know how she treated me, and how she treated Alfie because of it, and it was all out of line."

"And she wound up with a rich rock star. Do they still live in town so she can keep watching what you have? She build a playground in her back yard, too?"

"It's not like that."

"Good... So what are you worried about?"

"I'm not."

"Then what are you so grumpy about? Promising that lady you're gonna give her kid the best car you got? Keep her safe? That bugs you?"

Claire rolled her eyes, and tossed the keys to the Cutlass onto the desk past her boots, "Bring it in, and get it ready. I don't know when they'll be here. But when Xander gets in, I'm going home."

* * *

Julie had mostly recovered by the time she'd arrived home, having stopped at the diner to check in with the manager of the morning shift to see that everything was under control. 

Something in the way Claire had calmly tossed the relatively minor insult her way, two plain, uncolorful words, had cut into her years of built up guilt, and eased her burden. Claire's anger seemed justified, if not exacted and avenged, and yet it humanized her deeply. She was not untouchable or perfect, she was not a saint, she was flawed. She had the same fears, worries, hopes, dreams, and irritable moods as everyone else. It made her own failings feel comparable, as though they'd reached a more even ground, and it assured Julie that despite the loads of forgiveness Claire had provided her through the years, Claire didn't hold her blameless, and that the events had actually been damaging enough to deserve the apologies given.

Entering the house, Julie was greeted by the sound of faint instrumental noises from a relatively soundproofed room near the garage, and some surrealist cartoon playing in the living room.

Susie sat quietly on the sofa, facing the television, only half paying attention as she worked at something in her hands, and Julie caught sight of a needle and thread, which made her take a closer look, "Honey, what have you got, there?"

"Aunt Emily gave it to me. She came over to pick up Cyndi."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. Cyndi was on the phone with her this morning. It wasn't her cell, so I snooped. You mom had a bad fall, and she wanted Cyndi to come help her get your mom moved to her guest room. Cyndi asked Daddy, and Daddy said she could make her own decision on it."

Julie pressed her emotions down deep, thankful her daughter's visual attentions were focused elsewhere, "Are you sure it was my mother they were talking about?"

"Unless Aunt Emily and your mom have a different sister, then yeah. Also, she said 'your grandma,' so, I mean, she doesn't know Daddy's mom, right?"

"Right," Julie nodded, looking at the small, bright purple X shaped stitches Susie was forming on the aida cloth in the small pink plastic embroidery hoop, and the plastic bag next to her that gave an example of the finished cross-stitch pattern the kit was meant to make, "Okay, I'm going to talk to Daddy, see if he knows any more about it."

"Eli's in there," Susie called after her.

"Okay?" Julie responded.

"Just, you know, if you're going to yell at him."

"I'm not going to yell at him," Julie insisted.

Wondering if it was her own actions or Ivan overreacting to them that had painted her as such a wrathful person. Nothing seemed to line up, lately, every misunderstanding snowballing into a larger argument. But what was painfully clear was that when she left things alone, when she caved to everyone else's whims and moods, when she put herself last, everything was peaceful. And it killed her to do it. She had come to the conclusion some time back that it was not her place to bend over backward to keep everyone else happy, but the blame that settled on her for raising the voice of reason and responsibility still hurt.

She opened the door to the room quietly, and as Susie had indicated, Eli was sitting with his back to her, a bass guitar carefully settled on an improvised stand in front of him as Ivan was attempting to teach him a basic rhythm on a single string.

Looking up, he spotted Julie in the doorway, "Check him out, babe, this guy's catching on."

"That's great. Really... Um, what was that rule we had? About the kids seeing my mother without one of us there?"

"You mean 'your mother,' who broke her femur, and Cyndi's doing grunt work while she's too doped up to make trouble? That 'your mother?'"

"So you do remember. Okay."

"Julie, c'mon."

"Nope. Might as well break the rest of them, because last I checked, that was a big one. So I guess, cookies for dinner, and you can hit the liquor store and let them start hitting the sauce early. Oh, and who needs school, while we're at it?"

Ivan ran his hand over his face, "I'm sorry."

"Sure sounds like it. But we have rules like that for a reason, so, you know what? I'm going to shut up. Maybe you're right, nothing will come of it, or maybe she'll say something rude, call her the stuff she used to say to me, but if she hurts Cyndi's feelings, just know that you broke the rule and allowed it to happen."

"Cyndi made her own decision to go-"

"Cyndi doesn't know what she's really like," Julie stressed the words, "You do. You're her father, you're supposed to protect her from that. That is why the rule exists in the first place."

"Do you want me to go get her?"

"Yes. Because if it had been me, I would have told Cyndi to stay home with the kids and gone over there myself, so anything rude would fall on me, and not her. I'm not going to ask you to help in her place, that's up to you, but it's really fishy that my aunt called Cyndi instead of me, and if you don't see that-"

"Yeah... Yeah, okay, I'll go get her," Ivan answered, setting the bass in its stand and sending Eli off to play.

"Then, if you want, there's a, uh... A Cutlass, a four-two-two or something over at Singer that Claire said was pretty good."

Ivan followed her out into the hall, "She did?"

"Yeah, Dean told me it's a toss up at low speeds, so she can have the ugly green thing if she wants it, as long as she keeps it off the highway unless it's for a job. It's supposed to be ready this afternoon."

Eli had gone back to the living room, leaving the hallway quiet as Ivan set a hand on her back to get her to wait, "You really went to check on that?"

"What else would I do? I'm not impulsive, I plan things, and I worry. You know that."

"Yeah, I know. And, you know, I really thought it was the right call, letting her go help, I mean, she's nearly an adult-"

"She's a teenager. This is the most emotionally vulnerable time in her life, and she's not used to dealing with that level of nastiness out of an adult. She's not geared for it. I know that didn't cross your mind, or you wouldn't have let her, but it's not like I'd let anybody from your side just walk in here, so, y'know..."

"Yeah," Ivan nodded, "I blew it, I'll go get her, or help out, so I'm there, and then if there's time, I guess we'll go see the car. Unless you still want to look at newer ones?"

Julie shook her head, "Just go get her the car, she won't like anything new. Claire's nephew does, though, and she was going to give him this one, so there's no way she'd put him in something that isn't safe."

"You're awesome, Julie. I mean, I knew you'd come around, but-"

"Get her, please," Julie cut him off, pushing him gently toward the front door.

"Yeah, I'm going. I got this."

* * *

Claire had started home as she'd planned, but found herself instead changing course before making it to the road and heading for her fathers' house. Tapping gently, she let herself in, "Hey? Feeling any better?"

The sink shut off in the kitchen, which she hadn't realized was running, and Cas emerged, drying his hands, "Dean went back to bed. Do you need him for something?"

Claire shook her head, "No, just... Do remember when my car got spray painted? Before it got painted the first time?"

"I think so. Someone wrote on it."

"Did you see what it said?" she asked.

"I did. But if I remember correctly, it was gone by the next morning."

"Not important... Did you see both sides of the car?"

Cas shook his head, "No. What is this about?"

"Which side did you see?"

"The side that had your name on it," Cas admitted, "Alfie had already cleared the passenger side when we arrived home. Why does that matter?"

"So you don't know what it said, and I guess Dean doesn't either?"

"Claire, if you could just tell me what this is about-"

"Dad, I need to know."

"You can't ask Alfie? He-"

"Dad, just answer me!"

"I didn't see it, okay?" Cas said firmly, "But if you have to know, if it's that important, Alfie, and I believe Kevin, also, saw it. But how could that possibly be important now? It happened years ago, it's got no bearing on today."

Weakly, Dean's voice came down from the landing above them, "It said 'murderer.' Alfie got most of it off in the dark, but it still showed a little after the sun was up. I got the rest before I did the other side. Quit yelling..."

Cas didn't meet Claire's eyes, instead stepping closer to the foot of the stairs to look up at Dean, who was leaning on the door frame of the bedroom.

"What?" Dean asked, more self aware, as the initial effects of the painkillers were wearing off, "She comes in here like that, just tell her. She obviously already knew about it. God knows why she didn't just go pester Alfie."

"Just looking for a little goddamned honesty. Thank you," Claire called.

"Don't yell at your father, and don't make me come down there," Dean replied, carefully turning himself into the room, headed back for the bed.

Rolling her eyes, Claire growled under her breath as she made for the door, "Like you would."

She was moving fast enough that Cas had to hurry to catch the door as it was closing behind her, and followed her outside onto the porch, "Would you wait?"

"What?" Claire asked, "Go ahead and ask, though, because I don't try to hide stuff."

"Why do you need to know about graffiti that was gone the same night when you were a teenager?"

"Because the person who told me what it said says they're the person who put it there. And I don't know whether to trust them, or hate their guts, or trust that I should hate their guts. I mean, it wasn't my fault, right? Some stupid bitch tagged my car to call me a killer, but really, all I did was live. I mean, I thought I was past that, I thought that was done, and I didn't have to care, or feel guilty. And I know that at least a couple assholes still think I drove him literally insane, but it's the same shitheads who were trying to warn me, so-"

"Claire, the boy ended his own life by trying to kill you. He landed in his own trap. That was never your fault... But that pain, that guilt you're feeling at a senseless loss of life just shows that you have a heart, there's nothing wrong about that, but it's still best not to focus on it for very long... The reason you haven't heard about it until now is because several people who love you knew it would hurt your feelings, and one word isn't a lot to cover up."

Claire nodded, wiping at one eye with the back of her hand as Cas stepped closer to give her a hug, "Damn good thing this is the last one. Stupid pregnancy hormones..."

* * *

Ivan waited patiently in his car as Cyndi went back inside her great aunt's house for her purse. She had certainly managed to follow Emily's instructions to the letter, and Ivan, pretending to have been cut loose with Julie's arrival home, had covered the awkwardness by putting in for a heavy share of the work. He had even helped transfer his mother in law into Emily's minivan, and out into the guest room once they'd arrived, doing what he could to keep the miserable bat comfortable.

A bit more privately, Ivan had gotten a word in with Julie's aunt, as Cyndi had been assisting her great uncle in moving a few things around the guest room, and questioned why she had called Cyndi rather than Julie in the first place. Emily had made her excuses that her sister was in pain, that she had asked for Cyndi to be involved specifically, and that things were routinely tense between Julie and her mother on a good day, and the goal had been to make her comfortable, not miserable.

He was not entirely convinced that Julie was wrong, to say the least.

He was tired, she was excited about the car, and they planned to stop for a very late lunch before heading out to see the Oldsmobile Claire had recommended.

Somehow, it seemed to take about three times as long as he'd expected. He reasoned that with the furniture having been shifted around to make room for the wheelchair, and eventually a standing walker as she healed, it may have been misplaced, but he had thought that the purse had been left in plain sight in the living room.

He had been about to go in and ask what was taking her when he spotted Cyndi closing the door behind her and heading to the car, but all of the excitement had drained from her face.

"Is everything okay?" he asked, as she got in on the passenger side of the gray convertible.

Cyndi nodded, "Yeah, Gran just wanted to thank me, and she... Well, maybe it's an old people thing."

"Well, you did what you could to help. That's important... She doesn't pick on you about your look, does she? I mean, some old people do that, but-"

"No."

"Okay, good... That's good... I know I got a lot of crap from my grandparents when I started growing out my hair, but you know how that was, we talked about that."

"Yeah," Cyndi answered quietly as the car began to move.

"You still want tacos, pumpkin? Or you want something else?"

"Yeah, tacos," she mumbled.

"And then we'll go see about that car... You might need to drive this one home if we pick up this one for you. Your mom doesn't want you on the highway in an old car, and I would want to check it out, make sure it's handling properly. Also, if it's a four-four-two like I think she said, you'll need to learn to drive a manual. That's good, though, you get that down, and you'll be able to handle pretty much anything."

Cyndi didn't speak, only shifted her purse to the floor of the car.

* * *

"You didn't have to set up a dinner, you know," Millie said quietly, as the restaurant, an upscale place, was quiet enough their conversation could be kept low, "We're always happy to see the kids."

"Oh, I know, but we still wanted to thank you both. It sounded like a really rough couple of days at the end, there," Jess replied.

Sam scoffed, "That's not the only reason, be honest."

Ben settled his napkin in his lap as Jess, grinning somewhat, gave a nod that indicated sheepishly, that there was more on her agenda than a simple thank-you. Looking between his aunt and uncle, as his wife seemed to have no knowledge of the matter, he raised his eyebrows, "There's something else?"

"Uh,-" Jess started, turning to Sam.

"Yeah," Sam replied, "Actually, we were thinking about it, and we were wondering if, since Dean and Cas were kind of settling down a bit, and since they probably wouldn't want to move again, out of that two-bedroom, if you two would consider being the kids' guardians, if anything happened to us? And, to tell the truth, the vacation, that was kind of a trial run, we just wanted to be sure it wasn't too big of a thing to ask."

"But you both did amazing, really," Jess jumped in reassuringly.

"I thought-... Wasn't your sister supposed to have them?" Ben asked.

Jess shook her head, "Things change. And she's been going through some stuff lately, it just made us question a lot, and then when something really big came up, that's not really anyone's business, it just doesn't seem like a good idea anymore."

"So, of course, Dean and Cas were the next ones we thought of, but, you know, they're grandparents now, and things are calming down for them, and it just feels like, if they had to start all over again with kids, it would really shake up their lives in a way that might not be best for everybody involved."

"That's a really nice way of saying your brother's getting old," Millie chuckled.

Sam laughed quietly, "I'm trying to say, he had his turn being a dad, they both did, and since they didn't adopt again, they're probably ready to stop. And he's done so much for us, both of them, and just, not that they wouldn't step in and give the kids a hundred percent, well-"

"Still, it's a pretty big deal," Ben answered, "I mean, yeah, of course if something happened to you guys, we'd figure it out, somebody close would take them, I just don't know that we're the best ones to do that."

"Ben," Jess said, setting her hand on his arm, "Do you have any idea how perfectly you handled that thing with Emma this past week?"

"Um, I just-.." Ben was lost for words as he shook his head. Across the table, Sam seemed to be looking anywhere else and turning slightly pink.

Jess continued, "She told me all about it when we got back... I can't imagine how uncomfortable that had to be, trying to talk to a scared child about stuff you've never been through, stuff that squicks out lots of guys, and you still remembered to tell her that it's just part of growing up, for all girls, and nothing to be embarrassed about. Meanwhile, Sam can't even talk right now, see? So, you've got this, more than you know. If you can handle that, everything else, well, it's not a piece of cake, but it's not the end of the world, either."

Ben cast a glance to Millie, who only smiled happily and gave a small nod.

"Uh, yeah," Ben confirmed, turning back to Jess, and then looking at Sam, "Okay, yes. We'd do it."

Sam seemed as relieved as Jess did happy, "I'm glad... And, just, I mean, we're going to tell them eventually, of course, but part of it is, uh, Jess' parents seem to be of the opinion that they don't need to know, y'know, ever. And some of it-"

"My sister's easily swayed by what my parents think," Jess clarified, "And that's not the biggest issue that's come up, but that's not what we want. And it just feels easier to trust the both of you with this."

"Well, we're honored," Millie spoke up.

* * *


	70. Chapter 70

* * *

The office of the elementary school was bustling with parents of late arrivals, dropping off belated paperwork, and the general chaos of a morning of the beginning of the new school year. Classes had started Wednesday, and as it was now Tuesday morning, they had nearly completed one week.

It was the hour Gabe normally found himself waiting in a far hallway, avoiding the mundane bullshit he found so tedious about being in charge of things. Not today, though. Some stroke of ill fate had dragged him into the thick of it, and every other parent was looking to pull strings, or put a string in place to be pulled later. 

He tried to make his way out through the waiting area, only to find himself looking down into a face he remembered with a name that wasn't surfacing as quickly as he was sure it should have. The young man sat with an overwhelmed look on his face and a tiny child next to him.

"You... You're not one of Cas Novak's boys, are you? You're, uh..."

"Close enough," Jack answered.

Gabe snapped his fingers as it came to him, a wide grin taking over his face, "Jack-wagon! You broke his kid's arm with a chair! How are ya, son?"

Unnerved by Gabe's overly friendly reaction, and memories of being terrified of the man as a child, Jack stammered, gesturing several times to the paperwork, "It's just, I didn't know, I need to get my nephew enrolled, but I guess we missed the date. I never had to pay attention because I never had a kid before, and now I'm just trying really hard to stay on top of this, and nothing is really working-"

Gabe shut him up with a wave of his hands, and motioned for him to follow, heading off to his office as Jack scrambled to scoop up his paperwork and pick up Liam before hurrying after him.

Jack looked around anxiously for a second when he thought he'd lost track of Gabe, only to find him waiting just inside the door of his office, where he closed it behind Jack as he entered. Jack set Liam down first before he began thumbing through his mess of papers. 

"They said I was going to have to talk to you, but, I mean, where else is he going to go? Because he needs to be in school, and I know you already had the classes made up months ago, but I'm really new at this, and I promise, I'm trying-" Jack watched as Gabe, who appeared to be ignoring him, pulled two very small lollipops from a drawer, and slid one to the other side of the desk, directly in front of Liam. 

Liam eyed it, clearly tempted, but then met Gabe's eyes and shook his head. 

Gabe shrugged, but left the sucker where it was, unwrapping his own, "Okay, Jack, I know you've grown up a lot since the last time you were in this room, so you can calm down. Tell me, why are you the one signing up the cool guy, not somebody else?"

"He, uh... He lives with me, now. It's new, just a couple months, so we're still getting used to it."

Gabe nodded, watching the little boy, who, despite his refusal was still looking hopefully at the sugary treat before him, "Whose idea was that?"

"Mine," Jack answered, "I wasn't really, uh-"

"Thinking?"

"Happy with where he was. I just-, I saw a lot of problems, and I told my sister, you know, I have a room, and time, and I can do this, and she said okay. I don't really know where she is right now, but I have real guardianship papers, there's a lawyer involved, I got him set up with a doctor, got his shots up to date, and I even got his eyes checked so he can see the board, it's just this one thing where I guess I screwed up."

"Could've happened to anybody," Gabe replied dismissively, turning to the boy and leaning closer on the edge of the desk, "What's your name, kid?"

"Liam Lytton."

Gabe nodded, "I never met a kid who didn't like candy. What planet are you from? Do you have superpowers?"

Liam shook his head again, "You're a stranger."

"A stranger? Who taught you about strangers?"

"Uncle Jack. It was in a book he read me."

"Well, I'm clearly not a stranger to Uncle Jack. Although I'd be lying if I said I wanted to still be working here long enough to see him enrolling the next generation of troublemakers. But you, I can tell, you're one of the good kids, right? You like following the rules and behaving yourself, don't you?"

Liam was clearly listening, but took a moment before he nodded. Whether he was considering the question, or had drawn from Jack's intimidated demeanor, he couldn't tell. 

"How old are you, Liam?" Gabe asked. 

"Five."

Gabe nodded, "So, are you starting pre-k, or kinder? Do you know?"

He looked to Jack as he answered, clearly unsure of himself, "Kindergarten."

"And you think you're ready for that? You want to start today?" Gabe asked.

Liam nodded with vigor, his eyes wide.

"Okay, let's do that, then. I know exactly which class has a place for you, and also the best kindergarten teacher in the whole world. Uncle Jack can finish the boring old papers in here, but get a hug and get your stuff, and he'll come pick you up at the end of the day," Gabe said, getting out of his chair and heading for the door. 

Liam turned to Jack with a questioning look, and Jack assured him as he settled the boy's empty backpack on his small shoulders, "It's okay. He'll walk you to class so you can get started. I know this guy."

"And you'll come back for me?"

"Yeah, of course. I'll be here early and wait for you to get done," Jack answered.

Liam leaned into him with as large a hug as his small arms could manage before he followed to the door, accepting Gabe's hand.

Gabe led the boy through the halls and around corners, but the walk was relatively short, and soon they arrived at the door of the kindergarten class with the least students, where he ducked inside with Liam following after him. 

"Got one more for you. Last minute enrollment," Gabe announced quietly to a teacher who sat reading to the class as they sat on a block patterned rug. He gestured to an open square as he addressed the boy, "Liam, go ahead and jump in. I know you've got this."

Liam demurely took a place on the rug, and Gabe moved closer to the door, where one end of the teacher's desk butted up against the wall. The backs of the children were - or should have been, barring curiosity - to him, and he leaned over the desk where the teacher could clearly tell he was writing her a note. 

The small post-it read 'Liam Lytton, age 5, guardian - uncle Jack Lytton. Lunch money.' He discreetly pulled his wallet from his back pocket and attached a twenty dollar bill to the sticky side of the note before adhering it to the desk below her computer keyboard. And just as quickly as he'd arrived, he was on his way out. 

He marched back to his office, taking far less time, having no small legs to keep slow for, and found Jack still huddled over his paperwork, filling out what he could manage.

Gabe rounded the desk and dropped into his chair, "Okay, he's going to start settling in, you can get that finished up, and do you have any clue what you're in for, with this?"

Jack looked up, startled, an expression Gabe fondly remembered bringing to his face many years prior.

"That kid didn't wind up dumped on your doorstep because everything was fine."

"He wasn't dumped on me. I asked my sister to let me take him, and she did, see?" Jack took longer than he'd expected to proffer the guardianship papers he'd brought with him, "So, that's between her and me, so-"

"Kid, you're in deep. That little boy is too quiet. You better hope that's just how he is, because otherwise it's going to wear off, and he's gonna snap. Normal kids don't look like they've seen some shit. Now, I've heard plenty about Kayla behind your dad's back, any idea who the babydaddy is? Not that I can ask you that, officially."

Jack nodded, "I know you can't... I don't think it's who she said, and that guy didn't stick around."

"Is he coming back? Or the other one?"

"I don't know."

Gabe shrugged, "This whole thing is gonna grind you into the dirt. The only way you get to keep that kid, and I swear to you, sometimes you won't want to, is if Kayla spends the next ten years finding herself, and staying gone."

"Maybe she will. It's worth a shot."

Gabe narrowed his eyes, "Are you gainfully employed?"

"Yeah, I do pretty good, I guess."

"And you really think you've got it in you to do the single dad thing for a kid that's not even yours? What kind of support system have you got?"

"Well, I have folks who don't mind watching him for me, they know what's going on. I have help."

"What about advice? Where do you get that from? And for the love of crap, tell me they already have kids, because people who haven't raised children are usually full of it. I know, I am one," Gabe insisted.

"Well, Ben's sister has kids. And he really hit it off with Jaime, so that's been helping, and-"

"You've talked to Cas?"

"Uh..."

"Talk to Cas. He did the suddenly-a-parent thing and nailed it. He'll know what to tell you better than I will."

Jack nodded hesitantly, looking over the partially completed enrollment papers, "You don't think I can do this. Or that I should. Right?"

"I think you've got a shot, Jack-wagon. I don't think you're taking this lightly, and I don't think you're gonna give up. I mean, obviously you aren't doing this for you, if you were borrowing the kid for a chick magnet, no way would you take it this far. You care. But are you going to keep caring when he isn't little, cute, and probably scared to piss you off?"

Jack shook his head, "He's not scared of me, he-"

"He's scared. He has to be. If he's not scared of being dropped in the next person's lap when you get bored, he's a lot farther gone than you want to think about."

Constant stress and fear having weighed on Jack since learning he'd missed not only open enrollment but nearly the first week of attendance finally caused a break, and Jack set the stack of paper down on Gabe's desk roughly, sinking back in his chair, rubbing his eyes to hide the tears, "I am busting my ass, okay? The lawyer said everything I do, I have to be better than perfect, I can't have anybody even a little bit worried, and I might be able to get away with him missing the first week as long as you guys kind of overlook it, and don't go reporting it to anybody, I'm just... I've been doing everything else right. I fixed the leaky tank on the toilet, I bolted his dresser to the wall, I keep all the knobs for the stove in a bowl on the back of the counter... Every time I think I'm okay, there's always some new thing I have to worry about. I mean, I have to hit the store twice a week now, I can't let the fridge get low before I shop, just in case I get somebody knocking on the door, right? And he knows I'm trying to keep him, but I never put it to him like I'm trying to take him away from Kayla."

"Where are your parents on this?"

"Dad doesn't care, and Mom... Mom actually might have something going on, and nobody wants to be the first to bring it up," Jack said softly.

Impressed with his honesty, Gabe nodded, "What might that be, that might be going on?"

Jack shook his head, "I don't know, dementia, or Alzheimer's, or something... It has to be something. It's a completely different way that she doesn't care, compared with my dad. And then sometimes she'll just go off, so I don't really understand it."

"Does she watch him?"

"Not anymore, not since I moved him in with me. She asks to see him, sometimes, but when I take him over, I stay there."

Gabe nodded again, "Are you aware that kindergarten is not a required grade, here? That you don't technically have to enroll your child until first grade, or provide them with some form of education at home?"

Jack looked confused, but shook his head, "I didn't know that, why?"

"Because, since it's optional, we can overlook this whole thing. So long as shorty is getting what he needs at home, I mean, you aren't even required, technically, to bring in the school supplies on the list. On paper, for our records, you're a little late, but there's nothing glaringly abusive or neglectful, you're just a guy doing his damnedest to handle things," Gabe shrugged, "You keep doing what you're doing, do what you can, try to be perfect, but you're never going to manage it completely. And when you screw up on occasion, well, maybe it won't matter so much, but don't freak out so bad you wind up messing up worse."

"So he's okay to just jump in with the other kids, and you're not going to rat me out to anybody in charge?" Jack asked, although his voice was grim.

"You went here, you should know this already, Jack. I'm in charge."

* * *

Cyndi had been thrilled to begin the year as a registered driver with her own vehicle, even if shifting was still taking some practice. The newness was wearing off, and she was starting to find small complaints about her car, but she was taking charge of changing it, as well. The steering wheel had a damaged area which she'd first found charming, a piece of character, but as it had begun to wear on her hand, she'd gotten a cover for it. The cigarette lighter was missing, but when she'd called Singer, Margaret had only barely mentioned it to Dean, who had Blake pull one from the nearest pile of scrap and dust it off, allowing her to come in and pick it up. The stereo didn't work, but thanks to her babysitting money and a video online, she'd managed to replace it with a cheap, standard stereo from the small department store in town.

Closing the door, she headed inside, meeting a friend near the entrance of the school, happily discussing plans for the coming weekend. Passing people in the busy hallways, she seemed to be catching more quick looks than usual, but nothing entirely out of the ordinary.

Everything had seemed fine, until the whistling started. Some would look away and snicker as she passed, but after the first person, a rather popular senior, passed her, whistling a tune she found familiar, she quickly became an easy target.

"Eat any worms, lately?" she didn't catch the exact face of the girl who said it, as they'd passed her in a close group, which then burst with laughter.

"Trish... What the hell is going on?" Cyndi asked quietly as yet more stares and chuckling followed her.

Finn, a boy a year behind her who'd lived a street away, who she found to be a constant annoyance, walked directly toward her, blocking her path, "Heya, Cyndi-Cyndi! What are you doing later, after school?"

"Not interested."

"Oh, come on, just tell me, what are you going to do?"

Cyndi shrugged, "Avoid you, probably. Why?"

Finn chuckled, "So you're not going to get along home?"

Cyndi's face fell as everything clicked. The familiar tune, the looks she was getting... She'd hoped for a moment that it had nothing to do with her dad, but the question regarding worms had made it plain that this was not the case.

"Move," Cyndi demanded.

"You're so cranky, Cyndi-Cyndi!" Finn said quickly as he jumped aside, encouraged with a bit of a shove from her.

Her chest felt tight, and breathing became more difficult as she approached her locker, but as she was stowing her back pack, she felt something strike the side of her boot. Looking down, she found two very rough halves of what had been a red apple before it had hit her boot.

She slammed her locker door, silently cursing her entire life, and headed for class.

* * *

 _"Ivan, call me,"_ Julie's voice demanded, _"Somebody screwed you over, I can't get Cyndi to open her door. I swear to god, somebody's getting roasted alive for this one... Call me back the minute you get this."_

Having not heard from his wife in over two weeks, Ivan was certain whatever had caused the voicemail was dire, and despite the crowded room, he hurried to find the closest quiet corner to return the call, even if it meant plugging the opposite ear with a finger while searching for a more peaceful area to escape to.

"Julie? What happened?" Ivan asked as the call was picked up.

_"It's that song, it was leaked. It went all through her school, everyone is laughing at her, she's humiliated."_

"What song? What got leaked?"

 _"Cindy! Her song, with your changed lyrics. Everyone's been teasing her, telling her to 'get along home.' Whoever had access to this crap put it online, and your name was attached!"_ Julie explained, _"I'm trying to get her to talk, you need to find out what the hell happened, and who was responsible, because that was never supposed to be public. She's really hurt by this."_

"I'll head home, they're pretty much done with me anyway, they don't-"

_"Fat lot of good that's going to do! I had the absolute least involvement with this, and she won't even talk to me, so you can be damn sure she doesn't want you involved right now. Shut it down from your end, that's your side of things. I'll tell as soon as she's ready to talk."_

"Julie, goddamn it, I'm coming home. I don't care if she's ready to talk," Ivan insisted.

He could make out the sound of her swearing under her breath as she was clearly headed up stairs, and then the sound of pounding on a bedroom door. He waited, listening closely. The words were faint, but audible.

 _"Cyndi, open the damn door! It's been three hours, you can't... Look, your dad's on the phone, he's going to come home. Then you can sort it out with him, okay? Because I'm at the end of my rope, here..."_ Julie's voice came clearer as her phone was brought back to her ear, _"Okay, did you catch that part?"_

"No?"

_"She told me to fuck off."_

"I'll call her-"

_"Her phone is off. Like I said, find out who did this, there has to be a way to make them feel some consequences for this. And after I drag her ass back to the real world, then we'll see about moving and changing her name, okay?"_

"Julie, just calm-"

_"Don't start with me. I know this isn't how you wanted this to go, but I don't need any backseat driving from you right now. I gotta go, I have two more kids to take care of while this happens. I'll talk to you later."_

"Yeah, okay, I lo-" Ivan was cut off by the sound of the call ending.

He let his head drop in disappointment before making his way through the narrow halls of the historic building that had been turned into a studio, pausing at the door of a disproportionately large office, "Hey, Eleanor? I'm out. They got my vocals on that bonus track, but I've got a family emergency, I have to get home."

The much older woman looked up, but quickly turned her attention back to her computer, "Is everyone okay?"

"Uh, no. Not really. See, there was a song I did real early on for my girls, and somebody leaked it, and now I've got a teenager, you know, 'literally,'" he exaggerated the word dramatically, "dying of embarrassment, so, I gotta get home."

"I saw that this morning, it's making the rounds online. Not your best work."

Ivan shrugged, "Well, my target audience was two little girls under six, so-"

"So you hit your mark. Good to know. Your DJ buddies want to hear from you, maybe it'll calm things down," she replied.

"Yeah? I'll see if I can schedule an appearance."

"Just show up," she said nonchalantly, "You'll cause a stir, a positive one, get that anti-bullying crap out of the way, and then give them something else to pay attention to."

"Like what? The new tour?" Ivan asked.

"Anything, honestly. Anything bigger than that song. Give some kind of political rant, or a conspiracy theory on aliens, announce your divorce, I don't know, just as long-"

"I'm not getting divorced."

"Right... Whatever you've got, do it. Make a big deal out of it, that should take the heat off your baby girl, okay?" she said dismissively, giving him a small wave to indicate he was to leave.

"Where'd it come from, though? How'd it get out?" Ivan asked quickly.

"The janitor, for all I know. But if I hear anything, honey, I'll call," Eleanor replied.

Ivan shook his head as he resumed his path to the connected parking garage. He had been suspicious for some time, ever since his trip to help Lila begin her recovery, that Eleanor was not the motherly, protective figure she had so carefully crafted herself to be perceived as. He'd watched her carefully for years, but he'd never gathered more than an unnerved feeling in the back of his mind. Part of him wondered if she hadn't leaked the song herself, although her mood and opinion of it seemed to say otherwise.

* * *

With an armload of paperwork balanced against her growing belly, Claire paused at the desk to drop an envelope in front of Randy, "Here. Figured I'd save a stamp."

"You could save more stamps if you dropped a blender on me," Randy answered.

"Yeah, you wish. I gotta get some pictures of you and Tanya all dressed up, it'll be cute."

"You know her mom doesn't want kids there, right?" Randy called as Claire made her way to the office.

"I don't want my kids there, either. I'll get a sitter. You're not getting out of it."

Randy picked up the unsealed envelope, "Is Alfie in town for this?"

"Yeah, it'll be nice to have a night out before we go through this whole newborn thing again. I know my dads and my brothers will be there," Claire answered from the small office.

"There's something else, Claire. If you got a minute."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, uh, Tanya wants to move, so... Um, not right away, but we're looking at options. She wants to get a little further away from her folks, and, uh..."

Claire slowly returned to the room, "So, you're leaving?"

"I wouldn't call it leaving as much as not staying, but yes."

"How far?" Claire asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, how far away does she want to be?"

"She's thinking Bridgeway, actually."

Claire nodded, "Okay... You know we've got people coming all the way here to get work done, right?"

"Uh, yeah?" Randy answered, but attempting to find the same conclusion she seemed to be after he shook his head, "Oh, no. No, I don't think-"

"Why do you think that is?" Claire asked.

"Because the places there don't have a decent rep?" Randy answered.

"Exactly. Meanwhile, if there's demand, and we don't meet it, well-"

"But who's going to run it, all the way over in Bridgeway?" Randy asked.

"You will. I'm going to be here running this one, and half the time managing whatever fires crop up at home. Once it's off the ground running, though, if it isn't worth the involvement, I'll convince Dean to let you buy it outright, and you'll be set up."

Randy shook his head with a grimace as she walked away, "Dragging me into this again..."

* * *


	71. Chapter 71

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: Um, warning, sexual content. LOL, like you care at this point, right?
> 
> Thanks for reading! FW)

* * *

The morning had been a difficult one. Ivan had gotten in late at night and immediately crashed in the guest room, only to wake up to the sound of Julie pleading with Cyndi to come out of her room. He'd groggily wandered down the hall, made the same demand, and had the door open, only to find his daughter scowling. She'd made her position clear, that her parents could tell the school whatever they wanted, but she would not be attending that day.

Julie seemed ready to blow a gasket, but was quick to back down, which surprised Ivan a bit, despite the fact that he was about to urge her to do the same, and instead she gathered Susie and Eli, carting them off to their respective schools, giving Ivan a weighted look. Clearly, he was to handle it himself.

At first he waited, pacing slightly as he heard Julie's car pull out of the drive. The silence of the house ate into him, and despite the knowledge that he had done nothing to cause the current predicament, he felt guilty. Slowly, he returned to Cyndi's bedroom door, "Okay, c'mon. We aren't doing this anymore. I'll take the damn door down, you know I will. Open up."

"I'm not going to school," Cyndi called.

"I didn't say a damn thing about school, did I? But hiding never fixed anything... Just come downstairs with me, and we'll give Mom a reason to restock all the junk food, and you can do what girls do best and talk until you get all squeaky and can't breathe."

His prodding received no response. He opened the door, surprised to find it unlocked, only to discover his daughter sitting in the middle of her floor with a knife she'd purchased at a renaissance festival, making shreds of what looked to be many different materials. The object currently in her hand was a necklace or bracelet, he couldn't tell, and as she worked the knife through the string, it snapped, causing the beads to go flying.

"Okay, I uh... sweetie, I think I need to take that away from you. And if you're gonna burn anything, it better be outside," Ivan said gently, stepping into the room, "Let me have that, please..."

With a look of feral anger, she tossed the blade to the floor, a safe enough distance from his bare feet, and he bent to pick it up. He realized quickly that most of the objects that had been destroyed had displayed her name, and it did seem to make sense, given the taunting she'd been enduring.

"Cyndi, are you okay?"

"This is all your fault... And I'm not going by that name anymore, that's bullshit."

Ivan sat down in a relatively clear space on the floor, "Sure. You've got every right to do that, we'll call you whatever you want. But you know why that recording existed in the first place. I wasn't home to sing to you and your sister every night, and I didn't want you to go without."

"I'm tired of being your favorite audience," her voice came hoarsely.

"I never asked to be your favorite performer, but my kids are always going to be my favorite audience. Sorry," he replied, "And I'm sorry that got out. Eleanor is trying to track it down, and you can bet if anyone got any money from it, she's gonna hand them their ass... But I'm not sorry for making it for you in the first place."

"Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is?" she asked, tears beginning to roll as she spoke, "And a couple of people looked up the song you covered it from, and-"

"I know, it was a love song. Most songs are. That's why I changed the words in the first place," Ivan replied, "Okay, so what's it going to be? Cynthia, or you want to switch to your middle name? What do you want to do?"

"I don't even know, just not Cyndi," she answered.

Ivan nodded, "Okay... That's okay, we'll give it some time... I'm supposed to go see the guys at the radio station in the morning, you want to go?"

"Is there a catch?"

"No," he said softly, "But Eleanor thinks we can get everybody off your back faster if I give them something else to talk about."

"Eleanor's wrong. You don't go to my school, so it's not you they're going to be paying attention to when I walk in the door."

Ivan nodded, "I know it's not a perfect plan, but-"

"I want to finish high school online. Eventually, when I come out of my room, everyone will have forgotten I exist."

He couldn't help but chuckle, "That's not-"

"I'm serious, Dad."

"Look, give me some time to think about it, but not leaving your room is not an option. You can't hole up and hide from life."

"High school isn't life, it's purgatory. It's a temporary hell where they cage hormonal beasts while they claw at each other trying to be king of the mountain on a pile of shit."

"Baby, you can't..." Ivan sighed, shaking his head, "Okay, okay... You know, you care what people say a lot more than I thought, that's not very punk... You want to make them say something different, you need to turn it around, put it on your terms. What can I do to help make that happen?"

She shrugged, "Let me get the hell out of this town? You let me do keyboards on that album last year, during winter break."

"You really have no idea what your mother would do to me. And if you can't handle the crap you're getting now, you're never going to be able to take a bad album review. Not that I mind you trying to follow in my footsteps, but, let's not forget how you got kicked out of your piano lessons-"

"That was not my fault!"

"You yelled at the teacher."

"He said punk was just jazz without ritalin!"

"And he was wrong, but throwing your books on the floor-"

"You weren't even there!" she snapped, "And, anyway, if you actually let me get started, and Eleanor said she's ready when you guys will let me, Mom would have to let me withdraw, because how else would I actually be able to get anything done? Which I can't even do, now, because everybody at school is in my face, but it's worse, because it's all negative, because they're laughing at me!"

Ivan held up both hands to slow her down, "Whoa... Breathe... Get this, all this stuff, cleaned up, you got your mental-health day or two, but you need to use it wisely. Figure out where you go from here. And Austin is not one of your options."

"It's not fair to ruin somebody's life on accident and then tell them they can't fix it."

Ivan shook his head as he got to his feet, "You know why parents exist, right? ...'Don't touch the stove, it's hot.' 'Don't play in the street, you'll die.' And for the last freakin' time, 'the music industry is dangerous.' You promised me you were going to work on a fallback career, and I haven't seen shit out of you for that. So, no. Show me some progress and we'll talk."

He'd made it all the way to the door before he turned to look at her, expecting a scowl, but finding a very unnervingly empty expression.

"I really hate you, sometimes," she whispered.

"I knew that was gonna be a thing with you from the very start. But it doesn't last."

* * *

Kevin nearly jumped out of his skin when he approached the front counter for his next client. The man towered over him, his face haggard, as though time had passed for him triple since Kevin had seen him last. No more was he built of what had once seemed solid steel, and he walked with a cane.

"I'm not here to start any trouble, I'd just like to get a word with you," he said grimly, as Kevin was already seething at his nerve.

The woman working the appointments and check-in quickly asked Kevin if she ought to make a call for him, but Kevin shook his head, "No, it's okay. He just came in for a manicure."

He led Henry Danes to a small manicure station, and sat down opposite him at the small table, opening several drawers on his side and long flat cushion on the table between them, covering it with a towel before setting out a piece of thick paper to one side and a container to the other.

Henry looked taken aback, "I thought you were kidding."

"You're on my turf, princess. Act like it. I don't come down to where you work, and-... and tell you how to do your job, do I?" Kevin asked with a grouchy tone, having caught himself in time to prevent saying something he was sure his coworkers would not have wanted to hear, regarding slapping certain body parts from other people's mouths.

Henry let go of his cane, leaning it against the edge of the table as he raised his hands over the table, uncertain what Kevin intended to do with them, until Kevin gently took his wrists and set them on the cushion, spraying them with a sanitizing fluid and going over them with a cotton pad.

Regaining his senses, or possibly caving to whatever odd mood had taken root in Kevin's mind, Henry spoke quietly, "I'm kind of surprised you didn't tell me to leave."

"You're the one who decided to bother me at work. I assume you have something to say. Might as well get it out and be done with it."

Henry jumped at the first rasp of the file across his nail, not expecting the odd grinding feeling of sandpaper, as he understood it, "I got a message from the state that you let your restraining order lapse."

"Yeah, I guess I did."

"But not Margaret or the kid."

"The kid has a name."

"Fine. Margaret and Michael's orders were renewed... I wasn't sure if you two were still together, or-"

"We are."

Henry attempted to keep still, "Then why, when you were the one with a gun in your face, why would you let that go? Did you forget to do the paperwork?"

"I didn't forget," Kevin answered gruffly, "I thought you learned your lesson, since you hadn't shown up in a while. Maybe I was wrong."

Henry was quiet as Kevin finished taking the odd angles and rough edges off the last two nails, and began going over them with a cuticle remover and tool, but soon broke the awkward silence, "I blamed you for a long damn time... For all of it, I guess. Took me a few years, and a whole hell of a lot of work, but, I think I got past it. I know I've got nobody to blame for my actions but myself."

"Got that right," Kevin grumbled, awkwardly adjusting to fit Henry's hand to a small soaking bowl.

"What I'm trying to say, is I'm sorry. Now, I've heard about you two, starting that domestic violence shelter, and then she went to work for the city, I'm proud of her, really, I mean that. She's got a good head on her shoulders, and I guess you aren't so bad either. I'm sure you're raising that boy right... Of course I can't ask you about either of them, and I sure as hell can't ask you to pass anything along for me, not with the terms of the restraining orders hanging over my head-"

Kevin cleared his throat, his irritation at the older man's presence evident in his face, "Mike nearly got kicked out of school for a prank that involved a whole lot of intelligence and very little common sense, but he just started high school under the condition that he gives his studies everything he's got. The principal wants to have him in college as fast as possible, no holding back, so, maybe it'll take two years, if he slacks off. He's a kind, loving person, and he's incredible. Margaret is no longer working for the city, but she has a job, and she's happy. She's thinking about going back to school part time, and she's without a doubt the love of my life, and our not-marriage is going perfect. As for me, well, I'm here, scraping about three years worth of dirt out of these nails, and helping people when they're at rock-bottom, which is right where I want to be... Now, if I remember correctly, you did me a favor, once, in passing along a message that had nothing to do with you, even if you can't technically do that right now, otherwise, I wouldn't have the life I've got, which I couldn't ever imagine being without... So, we'll put it this way: I'm listening carefully."

Henry gave a careful nod, "Okay, good... I, um," Kevin had rarely seen any emotion other than anger or amusement from the man, but it was clear he was feeling his losses as he spoke, "I miss her. I still love my daughter, and her son, and I pray for their safety every day. I hope they're very happy, and I know you're probably taking good care of them... And I'm not going to try to contact them, I know she doesn't want that, not since she renewed it. I'm not pushing."

"Good," Kevin answered, drying Henry's hands and reaching for a tube of moisturizer, "And you're right, she doesn't want that. Is there some way she can contact you, though, if she changes her mind later on?"

"No... Well, her mother can get to me, but, well, I'm not exactly leaving her a business card, okay? It's better this way."

"Right."

Henry examined his nails carefully as Kevin began clearing the station, "Well, you do good work."

"Damn right, I do... On the house. Get the fuck out."

"I know I deserve that," Henry said darkly, settling his cane to the floor and lifting himself from the petite chair before making for the door, leaving with the sound of the bell that hung above it jangling.

Kevin hastily sanitized the station and paused on his way to the alley to let one of his coworkers know he was going on break.

* * *

It was already dark when the tow truck arrived, turning around to back up to the front of Cas' car. As Dean got out, he noticed immediately that Cas had removed his jacket and rolled up his white sleeves, and left the jacket and tie inside the crossover. Cas was the type to be either fully dressed or not at all, for the most part, and seeing him at such a half-way point stirred Dean in a way he felt no need to question.

The hood was already open, but the damage was clear, as a sharp bit of metal was sticking out of an area that should have been smooth.

"I think I blew a rod," Cas said tiredly.

"'Threw,' honey. You 'threw' a rod. If you blew a rod, well-"

"Dean, I'm not in the mood," Cas grumbled.

"Give me a chance to work up to it," Dean replied with a wink.

"It's been a very long day, I wouldn't get your hopes up."

Dean quickly started about the process of hooking Cas' car up to the winch and raising it onto the flatbed, well aware that Cas was watching him without any sense of amusement.

"So, how was the oil level in this thing? Was it low?" Dean asked, "Also, were you gunning it?"

"I don't know," Cas groused.

Dean nodded, getting up from the ground, "Right, well, both of those might have caused it. Doesn't much matter now, the engine is toast. You want a new engine, or new car?"

"I want to get home, and figure it out tomorrow. Given that they use the sedan for the children, Claire might loan me hers for work until I sort it out."

Dean suppressed the urge to put his arms around Cas, as his hands had quickly become soiled, "No, c'mon, you can use mine."

"The amount of stress at home goes up any time anyone but you touches that car. That's the last thing I want to deal with right now."

"I won't, Cas. Just-... Okay, no, just do whatever, but the car is on the table, okay?" Dean reiterated, continuing to the cab to complete his work of getting the disabled vehicle onto the deck of the truck.

Cas' look in response was one that demonstrated his mood clearly; weary, grouchy, and in desperate need of a break. He paid no mind as Cas made for the cab and climbed in, having little else to do but stand around gawking.

Arriving home after a silent drive, the large truck swaying through the small section of the yard, Dean parked it roughly between the shop and the house, "Do you need anything out of it? Because otherwise I'm gonna leave it up there."

"No, I don't think I have anything in the jacket pockets," Cas answered, opening his door and climbing down.

Coming around the front of the rig, Dean could tell Cas' day seemed to be getting progressively worse, despite being close to the end of it.

"Give me a chance to wash up, and I'll heat up the leftovers, okay?" Dean offered as he rejoined him, "You look ready to fall over, we'll try to finish up today on a good note."

Cas nodded as he continued toward the house, wherein he took a seat in the living room, and attempted to rest until Dean, having puttered around the downstairs bath and then the kitchen, called him to the table.

It had been a bit more of an ordeal than Cas had expected, getting out of the armchair. Still, he got to his feet and managed to make it to the kitchen just fine.

Dean was standing at the table, having finished heating two platefuls of leftovers in the microwave, and was setting them down as Cas wrapped his arms around Dean's waist from behind, pressing his cheek to the back of Dean's shoulder. Dean waited patiently for several moments before speaking softly, and Cas felt the rumble of vibration through his ribs, "It's gonna get cold."

"Thank you for coming out to get me."

"You're kidding, right?" Dean asked, "Like I could leave you out on the side of the road. Who do you think you're talking to?"

"I meant right away."

"I'd do a lot more than that for you, you don't even have to ask."

Cas leaned against him heavily as though threatening to bend him over the table, "I noticed that when you offered me use of your car."

"Oh, that's not gonna work, sweetheart. You're gonna feel better after you get a decent meal, we aren't skipping it for an ass pounding tonight, you're obviously not up to it."

Frustrated by being informed of his own limits, Cas twisted Dean's arm behind his back and eased the top half of his torso onto the table, "I think I can decide that part for myself."

"Food first," Dean ground out against the tabletop, "Then, whatever you want to do to me. Promise."

Cas tilted his head slightly, running a finger down Dean's ear and the side of his neck, "You do try to take care of me... It's sweet when it's not smothering."

"Schedule that check-up, yet?" his muffled voice came again.

Narrowing his eyes, Cas slapped Dean roughly on the ass as he stepped away, releasing his arm and taking his seat, "You have to admit that's more in your best interest than mine at this point."

"Look me in the eye and tell me it doesn't bother the hell out of you," Dean replied, sitting down across from him, "You know I don't mind taking breaks, work-arounds, but this is bothering you a lot more than it's bothering me, and _that_ is where it starts getting on my nerves. But lately you have to get into a full blown rage to keep it up, and that's not good either."

"Do you resent me?" Cas asked a little too causally.

"No. You're not the only one slowing down, Cas. Just because I'm not there yet doesn't mean it's not gonna hit me just as hard. You're also not alone in this, we're a team. I don't want you miserable either way."

Cas weighed his options as Dean began digging into his plate, taking a mental inventory of what hardware he had available, forming a plan in his mind as he complied with Dean's requirement of dinner. He was quiet as he considered his options, thinking through them carefully, and picturing an ideal scenario in his mind. 

It was beginning to work. Dean ate quickly, as many people who've known true hunger in their past do, and Cas managed a large enough portion before deciding he'd had enough, but his mind was elsewhere. He let Dean clear the table, preoccupying himself, desperately attempting to activate something primal in his anger, as though he had something to prove. Dean, and his insatiable body would be the death of him, but not until after he'd fucked him raw.

Cas went to the fridge as though he was after another drink, only to scrape a lump of coconut oil out of a small jar they kept in the very back. He waited for Dean to return to the table for the fork he'd carefully set out of the way before stepping up behind him, and making his objective perfectly clear, "Drop them."

"Now? Cas, did you-? That shit's cold!" Dean protested mildly as he unfastened his belt and jeans, keeping his promise as Cas has his hand down the back of his jeans rather quickly. Dean yelped and shivered as the lump of what hadn't yet melted was pressed inside of him, "God! Cas! Fucking warn a guy!"

"You don't need a warning," Cas growled, shoving Dean's jeans lower and pushing him down onto the table to enter him slowly, fondling Dean between his legs with one hand, leaning heavily on his back with the other. 

After easing himself through a few difficult breaths, Dean nodded, "Yeah, I did say... Okay, I'm good."

Cas began thrusting slowly, "At some point you should close the shop down for a few days and we could use the lift as a suspension rig."

"Yoga swing in the bedroom?" Dean answered, pausing as he attempted to speak through a few grunts as they began to build within him, "I'm rusty, but I know a few tricks for those."

Cas slid his hands into the front of Dean's shirt, up his chest as Dean attempted to prop himself on his elbows to push back against him, but only succeeded in making space enough for Cas' embrace.

A high toned squeal below them was the only warning given as a leg of the table gave way at the joint, causing it to give way first to one side, and then the other, dropping them roughly to the floor.

Dean raised his head, crimson dripping from his nose, "What the fuck...? We weren't even going that hard yet."

"I suppose the back of the couch would have been a more practical choice. Are you hurt?" Cas asked, gently untangling his arms despite a throb of pain.

"Not enough to stop," Dean answered with a wry grin.

Much to his own irritation, Cas felt himself softening and slipping free. Gritting his teeth against muscles strained by the fall, and the arm Dean had painfully landed on, Cas hauled himself to his feet, adjusting his clothing before making an attempt to pull Dean along with him, slowing as he reached the stairs. Dean stopped with him at the foot, kissing him hungrily, but with the unasked question of whether continuing was feasible. Cas was having none of it, and pushed him roughly toward the stairs, following up after him with some hidden difficulty as he tried to rub some of the cramping out of his arm.

Cas pulled the large trunk that had replaced the from below the bed, and bent to shuffle through it's contents, coming up again with a gag meant to suspend the mouth open. It seemed fitting, and likely to give just a bit of pain, much like his own, from clenching too hard, but as he turned to face Dean it all fell into place.

He hadn't been clenching his jaw. He felt weak. And his arm had been sore before they'd been anywhere near the table... And the feeling of a dark cloud hanging over him had followed him since the morning.

He dropped the gag into the top of the box as Dean's confusion began to change to concern, trying to remember what other warning signs he may have missed. His breathing was a bit shallow, had it been shallow before? He chanced a deep breath and found it difficult, with a growing heartburn-like pain that seemed to be pushing through his back toward his shoulder blades.

"I'm sorry, Dean... We, um... We need to leave."

"We, what?" Dean asked, watching as Cas eyed his left arm once again, and started for the stairs, thankful his clothes were still in place, saving him the trouble of redressing.

"You'll have to drive me. Hopefully, I'm wrong."

"Whoa, hey, Cas? Can you give me a minute to clean up the blood?" Dean asked, not placing his husband's erratic behavior.

"I suppose I can wait a min-" Cas stopped abruptly and moved to lean on the wall as his chest seemed to constrict itself, "No... hospital."

Dean caught the faint motion of Cas' left hand, flexing in an attempt to alleviate the pain, "Oh, son of bitch. Yeah, we're going now."

* * *

Claire had been ushered in to sit with Cas for a short while, during which time he appeared to be fine, but she was still concerned, and Dean was nowhere to be found. Cas told her that he'd seen her for a few moments as he was waking up, having passed out in the car at some point, but he'd been hurried off since then.

Cas had come to the most logical conclusion to his mind, that he was off somewhere filling out insurance paperwork.

"There's no way I'd be able to talk them into taking more than half a bag of blood from me, if any... You're going to have to behave yourself. And no more heart attacks. You scared the crap out of Xander last time, now you're doing the same thing to Dean, I mean... God."

"Of course, next time I'll plan it a little more carefully and simply be here when it starts," Cas replied sarcastically.

The door cracked open with a light knock, revealing a nurse with a clipboard. At first she attempted to wave Claire out into the hall, but she noticed Cas had caught sight of her, and stepped a bit further into the room, "Sorry, Mr Novak, I just need a little family medical history, I just need to steal your daughter for a minute for some questions. She'll be right back."

Confused, Claire followed the woman out into the hall, only to be rounded on with hushed voices when the door clicked shut.

"Ms Novak," the nurse began, "Is there any history of violence in your family?"

"Not since I got dragged in front of a judge and told to knock it off. Why?" Claire asked.

The nurse all but rolled her eyes, "I meant between your father and step father."

"Between-, between my dads? No, never."

"Ms Novak, when they came in here, _he_ -" she took a long glance to the closed door, "was unconscious, and the other one-"

"Dean."

"Yes, Dean had a bloody nose, and it seemed like he was trying to hide it. And your father, well he's got some bruising on the outside of his arms. Dean said he fell, that's a possibility, but the outside of the arms is usually a place where you'd see defensive wounds. So if you have any concerns, if you want your dad to leave here in your care, or if you think it needs to be reported-"

"Dean would never-"

"Ms Novak-"

"Where's Dean, now?"

"Ma'am-"

"Do not 'ma'am' me. Either get me to Dean, or find someone who can."

The nurse was less than pleased, but nodded and ushered her to a waiting room at the far end of the hall. The small room was empty but for Dean, unlike the larger, more warm and welcoming room with a few other people waiting that she'd passed near the elevators. He looked up as she entered the room, fear coming to his eyes, "What the hell is going on?"

"He's okay, he's awake," Claire answered quickly, "I was just in there with him."

"Why would they call you if he's fine? Well, not fine, but, I mean, you can't give blood, so-"

"Why are his arms all bruised up?" Claire asked bluntly.

Dean took an angry glance at the nurse, "I already told them how that happened, I really don't want to discuss this. But if he's awake-"

"Don't make me repeat myself," Claire demanded.

Dean ran a hand over his face, mumbling through his embarrassment, "We broke the kitchen table."

"What? Like, on purpose, or-?"

"No, like, the same way he has a habit of breaking the bed."

The small space went quiet as Dean refused to meet anyone's eyes, and Claire eventually nodded, turning back to the nurse, "So, basically, eight hundred pound gorillas going at it like rabbits. But they don't fight, not physically, so that's the only explanation that makes sense with these two."

The nurse timidly began writing something down on her clipboard as Dean straightened up in his chair, "Can I see him now?"

"Let me go check in with his doctor, and find out," she answered before bustling away.

Dean sank lower in his chair as Claire stepped closer and sat down across from him, "So-"

"Shut it."

"Nope. Dad is hooked up to tubes, and they're asking me if maybe he should stay at my place for a few days, you have to talk."

Dean met her gaze with vexed obligation. It was a practiced look, which was normally effective in getting people to back down. It hadn't worked on Claire in years.

"You can't go throwing him through a goddamn table, and I don't care why. That might have been, I don't know, a hobby for you idiots ten years ago, but he's getting close to sixty, and he is not-"

"Okay, stop," Dean cut her off with a small wave, "I did not throw him through the table. I broke his fall, okay? Damn near broke my nose. He's the one who does the throwing, you want to lecture somebody, go talk to him. You can do that, because unlike me, they'll actually let you."

Despite the anger in his voice, there was a sadness in his eyes, and worry on his brow.

"They want to keep him overnight," Claire said softly, "He said he wants to see you, but he doesn't want you to stay. He said he's worried you'll mess up your back sleeping in a chair, he won't be able to take care of you."

She was sure she saw tears brimming in his eyes before several rapid blinks cleared them.

"If they don't let you in there in the next five minutes, heads are gonna roll. Don't worry," she said as she stood, patting him on the shoulder as she left the room.

* * *


	72. Chapter 72

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: I wrote it out ages ago... Literally, ages. It doesn't fit anywhere, but if it did, this would be the chapter for it.
> 
> If I were an apple, hanging from a tree,  
>  Then every time my Cyndi passed, she'd take a bite off me.  
>  Cyndi knows her A-B-C's, and numbers one through ten,  
>  And when we get done counting 'em, we count 'em up again.
> 
> Get along home, Cyndi, Cyndi,  
>  Get along home, Cyndi, Cyndi,  
>  Get along home, Cyndi, Cyndi,  
>  I'll play with you sometime.
> 
> Cyndi's got a sister, we call her Susie Q.,  
>  And when those girls get up to things, the things those girls will do.  
>  They dug up half the garden, just looking for a worm,  
>  They didn't want to eat 'em, they just like to watch 'em squirm.  
>  (Chorus again)
> 
> So, there you have it. On with the chapter! Booyah! Thanks for reading! FW)

* * *

Finally able to set eyes on Cas since he'd been shuffled out of the room as they'd gotten him to recover consciousness, Dean was relieved to find him reclined and attempting to navigate a television remote out of boredom. He strolled in quickly, kissing Cas warmly and deeply, "You scared the hell out of me."

"I don't doubt it. They told me I was out when you arrived, but I remember the drive into town."

Dean nodded, smoothing Cas' hair back over his ear as he took a seat on the edge of the bed to remain close, "Yeah, you made it to the parking lot. You were out, fifteen, maybe thirty seconds before I had somebody helping me get you out of the car... Now, mind telling me what the hell you're thinking, about me not staying here?"

"I know it's difficult for you, but I'll need your help tomorrow when they let me leave... Also, with some of the more leading questions, I think it's fairly clear that while I might see you staying as dedication, others might consider it oppressive."

"Fuck what they think," Dean replied softly, "Hell, I got Claire backing me up to get me in here, though I don't want to take any guesses how."

"It's called a bitch-slap," her voice came from the open door.

Dean rolled his eyes, "Anyway-"

"Claire," Cas spoke up, "Do you mind-?"

"Sure. C'mon, Dean, I'll follow you back home," Claire replied, beginning a text on her phone.

"Yeah, that's not happening," Dean answered over his shoulder.

"If you stay, I stay, too. Don't make me camp my pregnant ass in that chair to keep you out of it. Dad's fine here, your back isn't, you'll survive one night without him... Also, I could call Ben and Xander to go fix the table, but then you'd have a whole lot of questions..."

Dean narrowed his eyes, "You know it's not fair to use the kids against me, right?"

"Somehow, I don't think the kids mind," Cas answered.

Defeated, but taking it in stride, Dean leaned in close and kissed him softly, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to speak gently next to his ear, "Get some sleep. I'll be back first thing, and my phone will be on nice and loud, okay?"

* * *

The day before had alternated between placid and tumultuous. When she had finally emerged from her room for a very late breakfast, her hair was a bit shorter, and she'd extended her undercut from the nape of her neck to roughly an inch above her left ear. Ivan felt he'd made progress when she accepted his help with a trimmer to even it out before she retreated to the practice room and shut herself in. Occasionally a tune would become recognizable, but most of it was noise for noise's sake, solely cathartic.

Late in the evening, after Susie and Eli had turned in for the night, he was aware of, if not party to, a heavily emotional conversation between her and Julie, in which Julie had explained the connections between the name she'd been given at birth, and the Greek goddess Artemis, and it allowed her chaotic mind to settle enough to choose to continue using her full birth name rather than look for another option.

After privately relaying a mumbled comment to Julie regarding the ease of gaining a suspension by talking about school violence in front of the most paranoid teacher, Ivan got Julie's cooperation in keeping Cynthia home an additional day.

He brought her along, as promised, when he went to the radio station early in the morning, and introduced her to the hosts as they were on a commercial break, before settling into the guest chair behind a microphone with the provided headphones. Cynthia was able to watch through a large glass window in the next room as she waited, leaning one shoulder on the glass with her arms crossed, and listening to every word.

One of the hosts gave Ivan a brief introduction and reminded their listeners of a prank they'd played on Julie a few years before. Ivan had warned her ahead of time, but left out enough details to get an honest reaction, which had caused a stir among his fans during a gap between albums and touring that had even caused rumors to circulate that there would be a boycott of the show, until Julie had stepped in and made her opinion clear that it had been a harmless joke.

"So there's a song that got leaked, and, uh, I gotta say, this is not your usual style, Ivan."

"When I recorded that, it was private, and it was supposed to stay private. My kids miss me when I'm on the road, and they're older now, but when they were little, it was rough to be away from them."

"You sing to your kids?"

"I'm not sure I'd trust a parent who doesn't sing to their kids. But I wasn't there for bedtime and stuff, it was a way to be there, just a little, right? And now-"

"How old are they?"

"Cynthia is sixteen, Susie's twelve, and Eli just turned seven."

"So they know what you do for work."

"Oh, yeah."

"Now, this is a cover, and when Ricky Nelson recorded it, it was pretty blatantly a love song. Just a happy, pop love song about a girl, and I'll be honest, happy is not your usual direction, so it sounds off-"

"Not to my kids. But that's different, because that's in my own living room, you know? I'm not getting up on stage singing stuff from Barney, or Sesame Street, but, you know, when you've got this little three or four year old, and all they want is time with you, you do it. You don't care how you look, you put on the princess crown and answer the little plastic phone, right?"

"Right. And you changed the lyrics, but you didn't have to change them by much, did you?"

"I did, actually. But she's- Well, any teenager is going to be embarrassed by their parents anyway, but at her age, that preschool level of crap, that's devastating."

"Are you worried she's going to get picked on?"

"No, she's already getting picked on. She actually suggested her mom and I take her out of school and let her finish high school online, but she'd miss a lot if we did that."

"And how's Susie taking it? She's mentioned, I know, that one part about digging up worms, is she embarrassed?"

"Susie's... She's her own person, and I don't think this bothers her much at all, and I think she'd tell us if it did, she's pretty open with her feelings," Ivan replied.

"We've got dad-of-the-year right here, in the studio," one of the hosts commented, making the other chuckle, "Our buddy, Ivan Lowery, and as it happens, he brought Cynthia with him, his daughter, she's just outside, and she is a delightful young lady." 

"Very smart," the other commented.

"Yes, she seems like a pleasant person. In fact, she's making a very pleasant gesture at me through the window right now."

Ivan's eyes darted to the window, where Cynthia was still leaning, and she shook her head, indicating she'd made no gesture, but her expression was one of amusement.

"Of course, you know, we're very limited on what we can say about her-"

"Yes. Because she's sixteen. That was in some kind of court order, wasn't it?"

"Not one of mine, must have been yours."

Ivan shrugged, "Well, you're not wrong, she is smart, and she's pleasant. She's also talented."

"That's a good word, I think we can work with that, but probably only because her dad brought it up."

"Yeah, she played on one of your albums, didn't she?"

Ivan watched her as he began to speak, drawing out his answer until he received a small signal from Cynthia, which came in the form of a thumbs up and a nod toward the microphone, "Yeah, she, uh, she played keyboards on two songs for me. She's not a big fan of piano, but she plays beautifully when she's into it. Which is why I'm trying to get her mom on board to play for my new acoustic album."

"Acoustic? ...Wow. Okay, you heard it here first, listeners, we've got word from Ivan himself, we're getting an acoustic album, which is not, uh-"

"Not his usual stuff."

"Yeah, how'd you come up with this plan?"

"Well," Ivan began, before the host interrupted him.

"I'm sorry, that came off kind of rude. Just, we aren't used to much, uh, you know, you're no folk singer, so that threw me. Sorry. But of course, we want to hear about the new project."

"As much as you can tell us, anyway."

* * *

With a duffel on his shoulder, and an insulated lunch bag, Dean hurried through the hallways of the hospital. Claire had made him promise in the parking lot the night before that he wouldn't bring Cas anything that wasn't on his diet, and that he'd wait and arrive after eight o'clock to let Cas rest. It was 8:01.

Upon entering the room, he was surprised to find the disheveled bed empty, but turning around, Cas was leaning heavily on the bathroom door frame, clearly on his way back to it.

"Why the hell are you up?" Dean asked, setting his load down quickly to help him.

"Because I'm not entirely helpless, Dean," he answered with attitude.

"Are you feeling any better?" Dean asked, wrapping an arm around Cas' ribs to support him as he returned him to the side of the bed.

"A little at a time," Cas replied, easing himself back as Dean straightened the blankets over his legs before moving to unpack the home-cooked breakfast.

"I cleaned out the fridge," Dean said quietly, setting out the containers and a fork onto Cas' rolling bed-table.

"You didn't," Cas' voice carried a tone of warning.

"I couldn't sleep, what was I supposed to do? Anyway, I figured since it's just us, we'll make it easier this time, we won't get so lazy, if just, everything you can't have is gone. So I-"

Cas tossed the fork into the salt-free, fat-free eggs and vegetables, "Dean-"

"I mean, I don't really need that stuff either, the butter, salt, beer. It'll be fine."

"You can only go so long being miserable before you pass that on to me. And food is easily your worst trigger. My self control is fine, your reaction to this-"

"Cas, you-"

A knock sounded at the door, and a nurse who appeared to be fresh-faced and timid entered, "Hi, I just came to see if you needed any help ordering a- Mr Novak, you can't... Has all of that been approved by your doctor?"

He stifled an eye roll, but it was evident in his voice as he answered, "No, but he'd probably say it's far stricter than necessary. My husband has turned overkill into an art form where my health is concerned."

"What? You don't think I'd give up beer and burgers for you?" Dean looked insulted.

"I think you're going to start spending a lot more time at the diner, or at Ben's, because I notice you said nothing about pie."

"That's not fair. I would give up pie for you," Dean snapped, "That's commitment, sweetheart. The kind you aren't gonna get anywhere else."

"You're angry just considering it," Cas observed.

"Um, just to be clear," the nurse spoke up as they seemed to have forgotten she was in the room, "You're not fighting, right? This is just how you two are? And that's cardiac-safe, and you don't need any help ordering a tray?"

"All of that is correct, yes," Cas assured her.

She nodded, backing out of the room, "Okay, well, I'll be back to check in on you in a bit, but push the button if you need anything."

"Please tell me you slept, and you weren't up the entire night destroying the kitchen?" Cas asked, turning back to Dean.

"Yeah, I got a few hours, don't worry."

"Dean-"

"A couple. I got a couple hours, okay? I mean, you're here, I have a busted table downstairs, your rings sitting on the dresser, all four of them, and a big empty bed. And, I mean, last time, I had the boys to worry about, you were home, I could check on you without even waking you up, but the house is..."

Cas shook his head, aware of the thin ice Dean was treading, "I'll be home tonight. Maybe then you'll sleep."

"Yeah, maybe," Dean admitted softly, staring off into space as Cas resumed his bland meal.

The conclusion Cas was certain Dean was either approaching, or had already reached and didn't want to discuss, was that with over five years between them, it was likely Cas would pass before him, and Dean would be faced with burying a spouse again. The only other possibility, Cas realized, as he just as quickly pushed it from his mind, was that he would be the one facing such a loss, and attempting to carry on his life.

"You did at least eat breakfast, didn't you?"

"Yeah, right before I threw out the salt," Dean answered with a smirk.

* * *

Aware that Xander had his hands full in the garage and Randy was on break, Claire got up and made for the front desk when she heard the sound of the door, only to find Dean carting in three large parts, refurbished from the yard.

"We have bay doors, you could have brought them in the back," she commented.

Dean shrugged, "Yeah, whatever, I spaced it."

"Two days," she mused, "New record. What did you do?"

Dean only scoffed as he continued toward the garage.

"You want some help carrying those?" she asked, following after him.

"Nah. Don't want to put a strain on the triplets."

"I am not having triplets," Claire grumbled.

"Any way you slice it, no heavy lifting. I like my kids and grandkids healthy. And while we're on it, Cas would really like to see the kids, especially if they're in a really calm mood, you know, not jumping on him."

"Good luck with that. Might work one at a time," she replied.

Spotting his father from across the garage, Xander got to his feet to help, setting his tools aside, "Dad? Wait, did Pops kick you out for the day? What did you do? You want me to go sit with him?"

Feeling cornered, Dean glanced back at Claire, who raised her eyebrows in wait for an explanation. He exaggerated his exasperated sigh, "Millie came over to stay with him so I could get out and actually run my damn business, okay? It's the second time around, he knows what to expect, and how to handle it. The first one is the most dangerous, this isn't so bad... And neither one of you has any business getting on my ass like this, either."

An apologetic look quickly came to Xander's face, "Sorry."

"He was hovering," Claire said with certainty.

"How can you tell?" Xander asked.

She gestured to the three large, cumbersome items Dean had brought in, "Normally he'd pull around to the bay and tell somebody to go get the third one. He's trying to pull all the weight there is to pull, because Dad won't let him do that at home."

"Oh," Xander nodded, as Dean's face went significantly grumpier, "Yeah, that makes a lot of sense."

Dean pressed past them into the garage.

* * *

When Kevin arrived home early, the house was quiet, and the front door had been locked. By all indications, Mike had likely gone to a friend's house, and Kevin had no reason to expect him to be home for an hour or two at least. Even Margaret would likely be another half an hour.

Flexing out a cramp in his hand, hazards of the job, he dropped onto the couch, considering taking a nap, as today was one of those rare days when the option was open to him.

A surprised squeak caught his attention, and he turned toward the closed door to Mike's room, trying to decipher what exactly he'd heard. Faintly, more sound began to drift into the living room, not anything more than he would have noticed, otherwise, and for a moment he was sure the sound he was hearing was probably coming from a website Mike would never want to discuss, given his age, but the sounds quickly became more intense, and he could clearly hear his son answering what he assumed was a girl of a similar age.

"Oh my god," he muttered, before calling from the couch, unwilling to approach the door, but also concerned about letting whatever was occurring proceed further, "Hey, Mike? ...Can you come out here a second?"

It had crossed his mind that whatever event was occurring may have been through a video chat, but the amount of scramble and hushed whispers made it seem several times less likely, and when the bedroom door opened, Mike seemed far too stressed and guilty to do anything but confirm Kevin's suspicions.

"Yeah?" Mike's voice was timid, and his breathing shaky.

Kevin had already pulled his phone from his pocket, and pulled up a website for a local restaurant, "I'm ordering pizza, so, what kind does your friend want?"

"Dad, I, uh-"

"I know, usually, pepperoni is a safe bet, but if she's a vegetarian, or vegan, I don't want to be rude."

"Dad-"

Kevin shook his head, "No, pizza first... I'm just gonna get a large extra cheese with mushrooms, if nobody speaks up."

Mike stammered, as past him, around the corner from Kevin and out of his field of view, the bathroom door closed quietly, "Um... she likes supreme, I guess."

"Okay, we're making progress. Are we good for sodas, or-, nah, I think Mom just got some of that red stuff you drink. Anyway, we'll have some time before the pizza gets here so you two can wash up, separately, you can straighten up your room before Mom gets home - door stays open - and let me know if you're walking her home after dinner, or if you guys need a ride... Anybody I know?"

Mike shifted awkwardly, "Are you going to call her parents?"

"Only if there's something I think they need to know," Kevin answered, knowingly doing nothing to comfort his son.

* * *

Cas barely looked up from his phone when the front door opened slowly after a brief tapping, and Lucas let himself in.

"Hey... I saw Millie leave, and I noticed Dean wasn't back yet, so..."

"So rather than letting Dean have a reason to fuss later, you thought you'd come over and babysit me," Cas guessed.

"Man, I'm not scared of him," Lucas grumbled, taking a seat on the couch.

Cas ignored the lie, continuing to type a short response to Donna with his thumbs, giving her advice on a meeting with a parent that she felt hadn't gone well. The silence broke easily as he set his phone down and let his head tip back.

"Feeling any better?"

"Still a bit weak, but I'm recovering quickly... Slow day at the shop, then?"

"You could say that," Lucas confirmed, "Blake can page me, though, no big deal."

Cas glanced around the room, as though hoping for an excuse to leave it, "I don't suppose I could bribe you to leave-"

"Yeah, no. Sorry... So, that school thing, how's that working?" Lucas asked, at least making an attempt to be conversational.

"I've been the principal of the school for the last sixteen years."

"So, pretty good, then?"

"Lucas, I realize we don't have very much in common, but-"

"I'm glad you didn't die, you know. Just, in case I forgot to say that. Dean would be a total bitch to deal with, I mean, not that he isn't already. And Claire's kids, right? And when Xander's kid comes, you're gonna want to-... Shee-it."

"I'm sorry, did you say...?" Cas asked.

"That was a secret, that was not supposed-"

"Lucas?" Cas held up a hand to calm him, "I heard nothing. I'm sure the news will break eventually, at which point, I'll be as pleased as anyone else."

"I'm sorry, that's not how you were supposed to find out, just, I don't know, I have zero filter."

"I'm painfully aware of that, yes," Cas replied, "And should this incident get past that lack of filter, back to Xander or Cora, I hope you'll pass on my congratulations."

"Fuck my life... Okay, yeah. I didn't know if you were gonna be pissed about it, or what."

"Why would that upset me?" Cas asked.

"Well, just, they aren't married yet."

Cas scoffed, "Parenting and marriage regularly bump into each other, but they are completely separate issues."

"So, you're not pissed?"

"No. I know Xander and Cora are kind, loving people, they'll be good parents."

"Yeah, well, thank god for that. He thought you were going to rip him a new one," Lucas replied.

"I wonder what would have given him that impression?" Cas mused.

Lucas shrugged awkwardly as he checked his phone, "Um, maybe hers did? I don't know."

Cas carefully got to his feet, making for the kitchen, not noticing the text Lucas was sending, or the recipients who'd receive it.

* * *

'he doesnt care, man. Go for it'

Xander looked up from his phone, glancing at Dean across the garage. 'Thx' he texted back.

He waited, carefully biding his time until Dean was head back out to the rig, and followed after him leaving enough distance to get out of earshot of the building.

"Hey, Dad?"

"Yeah?" Dean called over his shoulder, stowing the straps on the back of the truck that had kept the parts in place.

"I just wanted to tell you something, and, just... Don't get pissed off."

Dean turned in place to face him, giving a shrug to indicate he was listening.

"Um... Cora's pregnant. I'm gonna be a father," he said, his voice clearly giving away how small and frightened he truly felt, a stark contrast to the size of his frame, yet not at all conflicting to the man before him, who just as easily was able to see him as a confused and conflicted child from years ago.

There seemed to be more, but Xander's actions showed a nervousness that occasionally carried into his speech, and rather than expect him to continue while well aware of his difficulties, Dean stepped close and embraced him warmly, "Congratulations, kid. You're gonna do great."

"That's not what her family said," Xander said quietly.

"They're wrong," Dean assured him, patting his back firmly before he let go, "They're dead wrong."

"And Pops already knows. Lucas told him on accident, but-" Xander stammered as his words faltered.

"Hey, it's okay. Give us a couple more days and we'll get this whole thing settled down, we'll all go out for a family dinner, okay? We'll celebrate this right. And you're gonna fine, okay? Don't listen to them."

Xander nodded, "That's what Cora said, but, just, they were pissed off, and... her mom cussed me out, said I ruined her life."

"Okay, forget that. Bring her over tonight. I'll call him-"

"No, Dad, don't, I don't want Pops worrying about getting stuff ready short notice."

"He won't, I'll handle it. Just bring her over whenever you're ready, it's fine. And no goddamn lectures, not from us. You're not children, you know what you're doing," Dean insisted, giving him another pat on the upper arm, "Whatever time you want, I mean that. And maybe tell Claire, okay? She'll want to know. She won't be an asshole about it, either."

Xander nodded, "Yeah, okay... Just, when we told her parents-"

"They can get over themselves," Dean replied, starting for the cab of the truck.

"I just don't want things to go like Kevin and Margaret," Xander blurted out.

Dean stopped in his tracks, "What part of that whole mess? And none of that was their fault, and they were a whole lot younger, and less stable than you guys."

"The part where her dad flipped his shit? Went to jail? Stuck a gun in Kevin's face? Because Matt, I thought we were cool, even when she moved in with me, everything seemed okay, but, now I think he just wants me dead."

Dean shook his head, "You can't control what her brothers do. Or her parents, or anybody else. Either they come around, or they don't. If they don't, it's their loss."

"Then what am I supposed to do?"

Dean shrugged, resuming his path to the cab of the truck, "Give 'em some time, they'll get the idea you aren't going anywhere, make sure they know they play nice, or they're the ones out of the picture. You're gonna be okay."

"Easy for you to say," Xander muttered, walking back to the building.

* * *

Kevin waited at the curb as Mike, the expression on his face still mortified, walked his 'friend' to the door. The girl's mother looked past them and gave Kevin a brief wave before Mike started back for the car, this time getting into the front next to his father.

Kevin put it in gear as the door closed, waiting as Mike fastened the belt, "Dad, you... You really embarrassed the hell out of me this time..."

"Why would I do that?" Kevin asked gently.

"I don't know!" Mike snapped, "I just know that was all kinds of weird! Terri's never going to talk to me again! And you and Mom just... I mean, did I really need to find out like that, anyway?"

"Find out what?"

"That you and Mom had an abortion."

"I wasn't involved with that, it was before I met her," Kevin answered plainly.

"Oh. Great, yeah, that makes it better. We couldn't just pretend nothing weird was going on, you know, getting caught with a girl in my room and making her stay for dinner wasn't bad enough, You guys talking about S.T.D.'s... I'm in high school now, remember? People stay stuff, and they're gonna say stuff if she tells anybody our family is freaks like that, just having some pizza, and 'Oh, yeah, if you kids are gonna do _things,_ then, you know-'"

"A little embarrassment won't kill you. But I can't just pretend I didn't hear something going on in there. Bad information put your mom through something really rough to deal with, and I don't want you, or Terri, having to make those choices. Don't think of it as a sex talk, think of it as a health talk, just like you should wash your hands after you go to the bathroom, and don't leave glasses on the back of your desk until they get moldy."

"We weren't even doing anything risky!" Mike argued.

"Well, when you have kids, you can raise them to be completely naive and have herpes and three kids by the time they're twenty, but I choose to do better. You know, Cas and Dean used to keep a bunch of condoms in the boys' bathroom. No questions asked, they were just there, I think we should do that. I don't even care if your friends take them."

"I hate your guts right now, Dad."

"Yeah, you're welcome," Kevin replied with a grumble, "Because one day, when you're older, you'll mean it."

* * *


	73. Chapter 73

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: Been a little side-tracked, depression has been kicking my butt, not gonna lie. It's been weird. Got a lot of stuff plotted out, things that were supposed to happen from the very start, and also I've dropped a few things from the story where they didn't fit. I'm actually looking forward to completing it, every time I go back to check on small details, thinking 'I want to fix this typo, but if I do, everyone is going to get a notification, even though I didn't actually update! Arg!' But it'll be a while, we have a couple more arcs, one that's been hinted at, but hasn't technically started yet.
> 
> Thanks for reading! I'll try to keep up a bit better now that I've had a break! FW)

* * *

"When did they find out?" Cas asked, leaning against the wall as Dean bustled around the kitchen at top speed.

"He didn't say."

"When are they getting here?"

"He didn't say that, either."

"Last I was aware, it takes several months. I'm not sure we really needed to do this tonight."

Dean shook his head, "No, that part, that's important. Those kids need some love and support, like, right now. Somebody's gotta be excited for them, somebody's gotta be that village, you know? The happy part."

"You almost made sense, there, for a moment," Cas replied, no longer interested in how Dean was quickly disguising take-out to look like a real meal.

"It's a big, scary thing. We know that, we've been there, both of us. Hell, even getting Xander was kind of a surprise, we had less than nine months between the accident and him moving in, so maybe even a bigger surprise than Ben or Claire. But cussing out a brand new parent is no way to welcome a baby, that's for sure."

Hearing a car approach, Cas started for the door, taking his time, fighting his fatigue, only to find as he opened the door that the car had parked, and Xander and Cora were still sitting inside. She was dabbing at her eyes with a tissue streaked in makeup, and Xander appeared to be speaking to her gently, occasionally gesturing to the house. He caught a shake of her head.

Not looking forward to going back up the porch steps, he descended, quickly closing the distance to the passenger side of the small car, and opening the door for her, suddenly becoming privy to the conversation mid-sentence.

"-verybody judging me, and I just feel like shit, and I want to be a good mother, but..."

"You will. Or, you are, I mean, you're already taking care of the baby by seeing the doctor and getting the vitamins and stuff," Xander replied to her.

Cora got out of the car, her breathing still ragged, avoiding Cas' eyes. Mentally, he conceded that Dean had read the situation perfectly, and wrapped her in a snug embrace, "Congratulations, Cora. I'm very excited for you, I promise, I just don't have the energy to convey it properly."

"Because of the heart attack?" she asked.

"Yes, well, I'll likely be feeling as though I've been hit by a train for a few months, but it'll wear off before the baby's here, so keep me in mind if you two need any help with the nursery," Cas answered, stepping back as Xander came around the car.

"Nursery?" Cora seemed bewildered at the thought, and looked to Xander, "We need a nursery."

"Yeah, well, we'll do it. Don't worry," he reassured her.

Panic rose in her voice, "But we can't change anything, because the house is a rental, and what if my mom's right, and I buy the wrong crib, and it's a death trap, and-"

Being closer, Cas put an arm around her shoulders, giving her another squeeze, "Safety regulations are very strict. As long as you don't buy anything over twenty years old, and check for recalls and obvious issues, you shouldn't have any problems... Now, Dean is inside trying to make chow mein and orange chicken look like he actually cooked it, and I suggest we humor him. He's at least making an effort."

Cora seemed surprised, "But, I told him that was my favorite, like, years ago. How'd he remember?"

"Because it's food," Xander replied, reaching for her hand.

Cas nodded, "Not that he doesn't care about you, of course. He does. But it's easier for him to pay attention to some things over others."

* * *

Alfie looked up from the minimal homework sheet Jaime was working on at the kitchen table as the front door closed behind Claire. Past the table, as she approached the kitchen, through the open back door, she could see Melody swinging upside down from her knees on the monkey bars, a stick in one hand, which Cocoa was chasing.

"Hey," she said softly, stopping to kiss the top of Jaime's head, "So, remember when Ivan and Julie got pregnant right after us, and we were joking that there was something in the water?"

"Yeah?" Alfie responded.

"We did it again."

"Who?" Claire gave a small shake of her head and glanced down, indicating that she didn't want to say in front of the children. He gave an understanding nod, even as curiosity began to sink it's claws into him, "Well, Mel finished her spelling drills, and we're almost done, so I was thinking movie night."

"What? Twice in the same week? No way. The kids won't be able to handle that much fun," she answered.

"Also, my mom wants to visit for Christmas."

Slowly, Claire's arms crossed above her belly, and her head settled into a small tilt, "I know I didn't hear that right. Because that sounded like your mother wants to come here."

Alfie shrugged, "She asked nicely that we think about it, she said she'll give you plenty of space, just like when we saw her in Paris, and remember, when the kids asked her to take them for a second trip to the zoo, she told them that wasn't her decision? She also didn't push for any more time than we offered to spend with her, and she didn't complain about you even once."

"Yes, but the kids are older, and she might think you won't go for a repeat of her last visit with them in the room."

Alfie's voice deepened slightly, "I'm not doing their job as a father if I let them see me sit back while someone so much as looks at you funny. But she's been following the rules. I don't mind telling her no, but-"

"I'm going to big as a cow, and tired, and she-"

"Will stay out of your way if she wants to keep seeing us."

Claire shrugged, "I'll think about it."

"Thank you."

"She's bunking with Cocoa."

Alfie smirked, "That's fitting."

* * *

Claire woke slowly to the sound of her silenced phone vibrating on the nightstand close by. Concerned at first, she picked it up right away, rolling clumsily out of bed and leaving the bedroom, "Yeah? Hello?"

"I screwed up, big time," a young, stressed voice came back.

"Cyndi? ...Why? What's wrong?" Claire asked groggily, making for the living room with the dog following after her.

"I, um.... I need some help with something, and I don't want to call my parents, but since you said you have insomnia, I thought maybe you'd be awake anyway."

Claire stretched slightly, "What did you get into that you can't call your parents? And you know I'm friends with your dad, so-"

"Please, just help me get myself out of this, I just need advice!" Cynthia pleaded.

"Yeah, okay, I'm listening," Claire answered.

"Okay," she heard Cynthia take a deep breath to calm herself, "I snuck out, right? And I went to a party with this guy, but it's in Bridgeway, and there's some assholes here, and he doesn't want to leave, but he drove, so I'm stuck."

"I can come get you, but you can't keep-"

"No, listen, if I just get picked up, he doesn't learn anything. And I'm not helpless, so, I was thinking, if I can get his keys from him, I can leave his car at his house, and walk home from there, and he can be the asshole explaining why he needs a ride home in the middle of the night. But how do I get the keys out of his pocket without him noticing and thinking something's gonna happen?"

"You don't," Claire said flatly, "Is his car unlocked?"

"Um, yeah. I'm in it right now actually. I thought I'd wait in here, show him I'm serious about leaving, and if that didn't work, I can at least lock the doors."

"Okay, for starters, this is why you always drive yourself-"

"My parents would have heard me leave, it's too loud."

"Tough shit. And anyway, see if you can pop the hood."

Cynthia paused, "Oh my god... Are you going to tell me how to hot-wire a car right now?"

"Hell, no. You're going to disable it at least three different ways so he has to have it towed. Then, not only is he stranded, he has to cough up money... And then I'll tell you how to get to my uncle's house, they've got a lounger on the back porch, you'll be safe there, but you'll have to take some responsibility for getting home, which means your parents find out either way."

She heard a thunk she was certain was the hood popping, and the sound of the door opening, as Cynthia's voice was then shaken by movement, "You know, I know most kids would whine about you not just bailing them out and covering for them, but, I guess this is like, real life, and I get it. You're not letting me off the hook, but it's still pretty badass."

"Right. Send me a picture of what you're looking at," Claire replied with a yawn.

* * *

"Are you sure you're okay?" Jess asked, passing Cynthia the wireless landline, as none of the chargers in the house would fit Cynthia's phone, and the battery had died.

She nodded, "I'm sure. I just kind of have to deal with my parents, and it'll blow over. But I really appreciate you guys being cool about this, and, you know, I have a car, I just didn't use it, I can make this up to you, if you need a babysitter sometime."

"Oh, no, it's okay," Jess assured her, "This really isn't an imposition, and I just hope if one of my kids ever needs it, somebody would show them the same common decency."

Pacing past an opening in the hallway, Sam was still on the phone with Claire, and a snippet of their conversation was clear, "... should have called then, or told her to knock and wake us up. If you'll vouch for her, there's no reason she shouldn't have a roof over her head... A porch roof doesn't count! What if it was cold?... Yeah, and what if she..."

Jess shrugged, noticing Cynthia's attention had wandered, "Look, he's right. If you wind up stuck out here again, it's okay to knock. We could have called your parents right away, I'm sure they're worried."

Nodding, Cynthia began dialing her mother's number, the only one she knew by heart, and waited while it rang, listening to Sam raising his voice slightly, regarding the legalities of the late night automotive modification she'd directed Cynthia through.

Jess had woken up to Claire's call, informing her of a young stranger on the back porch, and that it was her children's babysitter who'd been stranded miles from home, but would pose no danger to the family or their belongings. Upon checking, she'd found the teen asleep, a black leather jacket her only protection from the slightly brisk air, and engine grime on her hands. Not knowing the depth of the situation, she'd played it safe and stood back from the girl, speaking to her quietly, and asking her to come inside and warm up. It had been a very odd morning.

"Mom, it's me,- No, I'm okay," Cynthia said, quickly followed by pulling the phone a few inches from her ear with a cringe, "Sorry... Yes... I'm in Bridgeway... I'm safe, I'm at Dean Winchester's brother's house... It's a really long story... Yeah, but-... Right now?... Yeah, okay."

Jess motioned for her to stay put, as Cynthia began to get up, guessing correctly that she was about to ask to take the phone to the porch, and explain herself to her mother, instead Jess left the kitchen to join Sam, where his pacing was becoming increasingly erratic.

"No, you weren't wrong to send her here, but having her vandalize a vehicle in the middle of the night? Claire, you... You are, without a doubt, Dean's kid. And that's probably the nicest way I can put that right now," Sam snapped, but upon spotting Jess close by, he pulled the phone away to speak to her, "Does she need a ride home?"

"I think her mom is going to come get her. But we need to keep this quiet, even from the kids," Jess said softly.

"Why?"

"Ivan Lowery is her dad, and we don't want to get involved with any kind of publicity stuff or rumors."

"Okay, yeah," Sam replied with a nod, returning to his conversation on the phone, "Claire? Yeah, listen, if this gets crazy, I'm not getting involved, okay? The kid with the car, this girl, I already know she did it on purpose, and you're contributing to the delinquency of a minor, so-... No. No, because there's no legal precedence under 'teach her to handle her own problems,' so if this gets busy, her dad, or your husband are going to have to retain some folks, because I'm out... No, my door is still open, especially if she's not safe, but work-wise, I'm out."

Jess could hear Claire's voice through the phone, speaking calmly. It was evident that she was unconcerned, but Sam's stress seemed to be increasing as she spoke. Jess slipped a hand up his back, rubbing his shoulders gently, even as he huffed in response to something said. Looking back over her shoulder, she spotted Cynthia, with her forehead in her hand, nearly hiding her face, finally ending the call and setting the receiver down on the table before her.

"Fine. Fine!... Look, as long as I've got you on the phone, how's your dad doing? I don't want to call all the time, Dean hovers enough for everybody, but if they need anything... Yeah? Okay, yeah, no problem."

Jess made her way back to the kitchen, "She's coming to pick you up?"

"Yeah... I got the standard, 'I'm not mad, I'm just disappointed.' Also, she said she's glad I had the brains not to stay put, and next time to call her... I left out the part about the guy's car."

"The guy's car? Did he break down?" Jess asked.

Cynthia shook her head slowly, "Claire didn't tell you?"

"I wasn't on the phone with her for very long, she's mostly been talking to Sam," Jess explained.

"Oh."

"I don't think I need to know. But, whatever it was, he had it coming, right?" Jess asked hopefully.

"He really did," Cynthia confirmed.

Sam emerged somewhat shaken, passing Jess her phone, "So, Dean and Cas could probably use a a couple of those freezer dinners you make for busy days, but low sodium... Cyndi, listen, we aren't angry, really, we get that you were just doing what you could to stay safe, I'm just not sure what Claire was thinking, telling you to mess with that guy's car. I really hope he can't link you to it, or that he doesn't report it, but I don't think she thought it through, and, just to be honest, there is a chance you could get into some trouble over this. But, you know, we'd rather open up the door and let you crash on the couch than hear about you on the news, later, okay?"

She nodded, "The first thing Claire told me was to take my own car, and trust me, this won't happen again, I learned my lesson... And I'm gonna learn it again, about five times over, when my mom gets here."

"There's one more thing, though, before the kids get up," Sam added, "We would really appreciate it if you don't tell the kids who your dad is, because there's no way they can keep their mouths shut, and I already have to be careful to keep a wall between them and my work, okay?"

Cynthia nodded, "Yeah, that's... that's no problem."

* * *

Cas eased into the waking world to the feel of strong, warm hands on his body. A set of lips pressed to his shoulder as he rolled over.

"How're you feeling?" Dean asked quietly.

"I think I want to stop by the school today," Cas mused sleepily.

"I'll drive."

"No... No, I think... Well, I suppose maybe that would be for the best," he relented.

Dean leaned over him, kissing him softly, "Don't worry, I won't let you overdo it. What do you want for breakfast?"

"Nothing I wouldn't have to sneak past you, so you may as well do your worst."

There was always something soft and comforting to Dean's mind about Cas when he was waking up. Dean tended to wake quickly and early, unless he'd had a very late and aggressive night prior. He'd had too many harsh mornings as a child to easily be caught sleeping, and the military had continued the habit. Cas, however, and his ability to remain relaxed and secure was almost fascinating. He slept without fear, and was completely unconcerned with Dean's presence. Dean nuzzled against Cas' neck and successfully got him to roll closer, only to have Cas tug at his arm and pull his hand below the blankets as he sleepily kissed Dean firmly.

Dean gave a brief hum of surprise, "You want to work up an appetite first with another appetite? Okay, I can work with that."

* * *

At the sound of an alarm rather than daylight, an adjustment Claire was not fond of as the fall was dragging on, she rolled herself out of bed and started for the children's rooms, fully intent on managing a functional morning, and entirely unaware of the pandemonium that would commence from a single moment of panic.

Jaime, much like Ben, was a gentle child, who was deeply fond of animals. Over the summer, he'd had a few snails in a jar, a lizard at one point, and even a grass snake, all with the stipulation that whatever he caught went back outside after two days. Claire had not been fond of the snake, and Melody had found the situation hilarious.

It had been a few months since Jaime had brought in anything interesting, and as he was always delighted to share his new finds with his family, it was more of a surprise that the boy had said not a word than that he had managed to collect a fairly large scorpion. It was also more unusual that he hadn't managed to get the repeatedly punctured lid on his recycled container on correctly, which was how Claire discovered the scorpion on Jaime's nightstand as she turned on his lamp.

Down the hall, woken by the abrupt sounds of slamming, swearing, and screaming, Alfie tripped several times and began to question whether Dean was correct, that he'd be better off with a gun in reach as he hurried toward the commotion.

Jaime was hysterical, screaming at Claire, who was trying to get him out of the bedroom despite his attempts to wriggle free, and Melody, he wasn't sure if she'd been there the entire time or if her door had barely opened, but she seemed rather startled by the noises in the hall.

"You smashed off his tail! He can't live without his tail!"

"It's a scorpion, Jaime, and it's dangerous!"

"He's my friend! And you hurt him! You're gonna kill him!"

"Yeah, I am! They're venomous!" Claire argued, trying to pass him off to Alfie.

"You can't kill Max!" Jaime screamed.

"I'll do it. Give me a shoe," Melody chimed in a little too coolly for Alfie's liking.

Pushing past Claire and Jaime, still locked in a power struggle, Alfie blocked the doorway to keep Jaime from bolting back into the room, "Did anyone get stung?"

"I don't think so," Claire answered as Jaime broke free from her, and threw himself into Alfie's hip with all his weight, "It ran under the bed, I think it had stripes. I want to check him over and make sure-"

"You wouldn't smash off Cocoa's tail!" Jaime pushed Claire's hands away roughly as Alfie gave her a nod and slipped into the room, closing the door after him as he heard his son scream, wrenching his heart, "Daddy! Don't kill Max!"

Claire was fighting the urge to shut down as she hustled Jaime into the bathroom, trying to calm Jaime as she insisted he needed a bath immediately, and that Alfie would see to the scorpion she'd bludgeoned in panic, leaving Melody alone with Cocoa in the dark empty upstairs.

She looked down at the dog, who wagged a friendly tail, as she listened to her brother continue to scream at their mother, and heard the awkward scrambling in Jaime's room as Alfie caught what was left of the arachnid, sealed the container carefully, and then jumped back as the bedroom door flung open.

"Claire?" Alfie called, shooing Melody back from the doorway, "Stay out of there, don't touch that box... Claire? You were right, it's got stripes."

Melody shrugged and glanced into Jaime's room curiously as Alfie disappeared into the bathroom where Jaime was still loudly finding the words to accuse his mother of every horrible act of violence that could possibly be perpetrated against a bug.

Beaten and pale, Claire emerged, leaning on the wall, shaking slightly.

"Mom?"

"Yeah, honey?"

"Daddy said to leave it, but I could go smash it with a rock or something. Then it would be my fault, and he won't care as much."

Claire shook her head, starting carefully down the stairs, "No, I'm pretty sure it's one of the really bad ones, we're gonna leave it right there. Your dad's gonna check Jaime for bites, and I... I am going to go mark today on the calendar to remind myself to get drunk next year... Go get dressed, sweetie, you have school."

As she went back into her room, Melody was sure she heard her brother, still fussing, telling Alfie that the bug had been named Max because it had the maximum number of legs. She found that odd, as a millipede or centipede would have had many more. She puzzled after her mother's statement about getting drunk, about what one of the 'really bad ones' meant, and out of habit, looking for signs of the outside world beginning to wake, she went to her window.

The light in the sky was rising over the small town further away, well past the hint of Ben's barn roof where the highway curved back to town, and the junk yard's colors were becoming more prevalent, less like the twisted rock it appeared to be in the middle of the night when all the lights were off.

Down the dirt road, she spotted a cloud of risen dust approaching, which didn't slow as it passed the second gate to her grandfathers' home, and permeated the branches of the tree at the bend in the road. They had a visitor.

The water was still running in the bathroom as she made it to the stairs, and the ashen look on her mother's face had concerned her enough that Melody decided if she couldn't be helpful by smashing the bug with a rock, she'd make herself useful in another way, and slipped out onto the porch, still clad in pajamas.

The rental car was a dark color she couldn't make out in the dim light, understated and pricey like a well tailored suit. She was familiar with the driver as he stepped out of the car, and a smile crossed her face. Her great uncle was the type to dote. But the man he brought with him, she wasn't so certain who he was.

Crowley noted her presence as he tucked a dark, ornate wooden case under his arm and closed the car door, "Melody! You've gotten taller. Are you taller than me, now?"

"No," she giggled, "I'm still a kid!"

"It won't be long," he reassured her, coming closer, "Take one look at your father, he gets the height from his mother's side. Of course you remember your Grandpa Lucius?"

Crowley had been by during the time leading up to the trip when Alfie and Claire had taken the children to visit Rachel in Paris, during which time, he'd had a long conversation with both Melody and Jaime regarding manners and pretending, and how the two were often used together. The entire thing had struck her as ludicrous, but the rules of the game, as he had explained it, had stuck with her.

"Oh," she replied, beginning to nod, having taken his hint, "Hi, Grandpa Lucius. I didn't recognize you because it's dark."

Lucius smiled widely, "It's okay, Mel, honey. You don't have a clue who I am."

"Yeah, I do. You're my dad's dad. You were married to Grandmere."

He nodded, "That's right... Does Uncle Crowley bribe you with candy?"

"No," Melody replied quietly.

Lucius cast a sidelong glance at Crowley, who only returned his look, before starting up the porch steps, "Are your parents awake yet, dear?"

"Yeah, but Mom doesn't feel good, and Dad's busy," she explained, opening the door to let them in.

The living room was dark, and beyond it, waiting at the table for the coffee pot to finish running, Claire, who, as Melody had described was looking unwell, was scrolling local scorpion breeds, taking a particular interest in which ones were potentially lethal.

"Perhaps we've come at a bad time," Crowley said softly, not wishing to make her jump, and nearly succeeding. Claire was still in her pajamas, and had obviously been through some sort of metaphorical wringer.

What little color she had left seemed to drain as Lucius offered a warm smile, "Claire, are you feeling okay?"

"Jaime's convinced I murdered his pet bug," Claire answered roughly, "I'm just waiting for my husband to tell me if we need to take him to the hospital."

Lucius began to chuckle, which confused Melody, who found no part of her mother's hard look back to him funny, nor the part implying her brother could be in less than perfect health, "Well, you certainly don't get that with penthouse living... Which you could be doing right now, you know."

"I'm aware," Claire confirmed.

Heavy footsteps and Jaime's constant stream of words came down the stairs, describing tearfully how Max was a deeply misunderstood creature, as Alfie appeared behind the two older men, carrying a damp, towel-wrapped Jaime in his now bare arms, having removed his pajama shirt when it had been splashed by an uncooperative child. If he was alarmed by their presence, he didn't show it, instead pressing past them to seat Jaime on the table, and turning his leg awkwardly to show Claire the outside angle of the boy's ankle, "This looks like a bite, but it looks old. He's fine everywhere else. Do you want to take him in anyway?"

"No, this says basically he'd have to be having an allergic reaction if anything was going on, but I'd always heard they were as bad as a brown recluse," Claire replied, passing Alfie the phone, "Still, they can cause muscle spasms and fever, so, no more scorpions in the house. We can't take that risk, especially with the baby."

Crowley cleared his throat, but Lucius, who'd never felt the need to stand on the same amount of ceremony, spoke clearly, "Good to see you, too, son."

Alfie straightened a bit, passing Claire her phone, then wrapped the towel a bit tighter around Jaime before scooping him off the table, "It's not even seven o'clock."

"I hear Claire runs a tight ship," Lucius replied, "And, you know, international flights, time zones, I'm sure you understand. Anyway... What happened to your back?"

Alfie glanced at Crowley, who pulled the wooden case from below his arm and approached the table to set it down next to Claire.

"There's that little heirloom that was asked after," Crowley said quietly, as if attempting to distract her from further stress.

"Why are you here?" Alfie demanded of his father.

Lucius shrugged, "I wanted to see you? The kids? Check that all, well, soon to be five of you have everything you need. Did I do something, I mean, personally, to upset you? Or is this just you being cranky, like your mother?"

Alfie drew a measured breath, then released it, "I'm busy today. See, I'm going to take my son to the walk-in place, show them what might have stung or bit his leg, and make sure he gets appropriate medical care. Think about that for a while, and maybe it'll come back to you. Or ask Crowley, he actually showed up."

Claire seemed unconcerned as Alfie went upstairs, leaving his father on the ground floor staring after him with a cryptic look, and Crowley inched toward the cupboard of coffee mugs, ignoring the sharply spoken words.

"I missed something. Pretty sure," Lucius mused.

A very unladylike snort came from the table, and he was met with an expression few had dared to turn upon him in years.

"The motorcycle accident," Claire reminded him, "He was a minor, almost died, was almost paralyzed, and Naomi pretty much made them put him in a coma for a few days. Neither you or Rachel saw him until the wedding."

Lucius shrugged, "I wasn't worried. I mean, you were here."

"I wasn't. I didn't meet him until he was back at work a few months later."

"Oh... So he's a little bitter about it. Okay."

"A little?" Claire asked, "Yeah. If by 'a little,' you mean, directly proportionate to abandoning your kid half a world away, sure, I might call that 'a little.' Anyway, I'd sit back and wait, he's not going to be ready to talk to you until he's pretty well satisfied that this is handled, and it's going to be a couple of hours, at least."

Lucius slowly took a seat at the table, occasionally glancing at Melody, who hovered near the archway to the kitchen, looked around the modest house slowly, and then broke the silence he was beginning to find awkward, "So... Are you going with? Make sure the doctors treat your little boy right? Supermom?"

"Alfie handles the kids' medical stuff unless it's an emergency," Claire replied, not looking up from her screen.

"Well, I guess we know who wears the skirts around here, don't we?" Lucius chuckled lightly.

Claire pressed the button to darken her screen, set her phone down on the table top, and looked up, meeting her father in law's eyes, her voice low, but clear enough for both Melody and Crowley to make out every word, "I can look past the fact that you're here without an invitation, or any kind of warning, and I am too tired right now to care what made you come out here in the first place, but you're on Novak land now. And if you insult my husband in my home again, you'll never leave it."

Lucius turned slightly in his seat to Melody, and gestured roundly in front of his stomach, faking a loud whisper, "Hormones."

Melody shook her head slowly in warning.

"Really?" Lucius mused, turning forward once more, "I guess Mommy really likes Daddy, then, doesn't she?"

"That is, generally, how this many children occur in the first place," Crowley answered him, as Claire had turned her attention to the wooden case.

Opening the box without ceremony, callously allowing the top of the lid to smack loudly against the table top for added effect, Claire looked over the pieces contained within, finding the set whole and in good repair. She cautiously poked at a gem in one of the earrings, which she remembered had been loose the last she'd seen them, and was satisfied that it was no longer in danger of falling out of its setting.

Melody wandered closer to get a better look as Claire got up, adjusting her stance for her belly, and began preparing a cup of coffee.

"Should you be drinking that, in your condition?" Lucius asked in a helpful tone. He was answered with silence, a sound he was accustomed to, but never as a reply. Attempting to cover his missteps so far, he turned to Melody, "I bet you'd love to try those on. I heard it's for a picture, are you going to be in the picture?"

"No, my Aunt Margaret is doing the picture."

"Not you or Mom? Why?"

"Because she's the one falling off the cliff. It's mostly done, anyway."

"Falling off the cliff?" Lucius seemed surprised, "Does Dad usually do stuff like that? Throw pretty ladies off cliffs?"

"Don't you look at his artwork?" Melody asked, incredulous.

"I guess I should, huh?"

"Dad always looks at stuff me and Jaime make. Mom, too. Parents are supposed to look, and be proud."

Lucius shrugged, "Would you believe you're the first person to tell me that?"

"You're the first person I met that didn't know it already," Melody replied.

Lucius looked unimpressed as Crowley chuckled darkly. "Nine years old, and she's already figured you out."

* * *


End file.
